Guts For Glory!
by AudeTheThird
Summary: Tumblr Challenge: Pick your OTP. Now ruin them. Romance, but not of the typical sort, considering Belle's true love has scales and Hook's true love is in the ocean, falling apart. There will be more adventure and character development than anything, because this was really hard to do. Chapter posted every day, because I'm already finished.
1. Chapter 1

My own Tumblr Challenge: pick your OTP. Now ruin them.

Mostly because my feelings cannot handle what is going on in Storybrooke.

I'M IN DENIAL.

I CANNOT DEAL WITH THE DRAMA, AND I'M NOT EVEN SORRY.

DISCLAIMER: These characters aren't mine, I'm just playing with them, exercising my demons, and such.

Aude

xx

* * *

He had all of thirty seconds before the queen descended and he'd be little more than a red skid mark upon the castle floor.

* * *

"And you're certain this charm will give me time?" he narrowed lined eyes on the shivering hedge witch, who's life and sister he'd just rescued on a whim from a pack of road bandits. His men had been complaining of boredom as they traipsed through the forest to a dingy bar on the shoreline - the mast of his ship had been in desperate need of repairs, since the incident with the mermaids.

She was weary from fright, golden haired, grey eyed, and nodding furiously, nervous hands twisting together like scuttling crabs. Her sister, the elder, more disapproving of her obligation to help him - stayed far away, arms folded tightly against her stomach, glaring at her sibling with 'I told you so' bubbling on her lips. The younger was pretty little thing with a particularly loud scream, who was now looking on him with the kind of pleased anxiousness a virgin does her wedding night.

"How can I trust it doesn't cease working, under the queen's alarms?"

"Well," the lady said, bright eyes darting to the piece of gold between his fingertips. "Even if it doesn't... you won't be able to come back and deal with me, will you?"

He didn't like that. She swallowed sheepishly.

"I'm- I'm familiar with the signature of her magic, you see, I used to - used to work her kitchens, but I used the same counter charm to get myself out under cover of darkness, so whatever physical entities you run into, that's your own to deal with." she swallowed, looking up at him, wet lashes fanning prettily around her eyes. "Not that you aren't capable, sir."

"Sir?" He rolled the coin over his knuckles, inspecting the fine white glow hovering around the surface. He flicked it into the air, listening to the not-quite-right sounding noise it made, as though it were heavier.

"Captain." she amended, and tucked a golden strand of hair behind her ear.

He studied her face, the way she watched him so eagerly. If he had to guess, early twenties, unused to praise, probably a slave as many years as she'd been alive.

"How will I know it's working?"

"It'll burn hot when it begins - nothing to hurt, mind, but enough to get you through your clothes - and as it runs out of time, it'll go cold. It'll be as a chunk of ice when it's done, then it will return to normal." she said it with all the assurances of a product well tested, looking over her shoulder at his grouchy men, before flicking her eyes back to him.

"I see." he tucked his own bewitched coin into his top pocket. "Well, thank you, lass."

"Thank you." she breathed, flushed, and fluttered her lashes at him. "My sister and I are forever grateful, Captain."

"Nonsense." he cooed, and reached out to rub a silken strand of her hair between his fingertips. "I must insist on walking you home, love. It is my duty as a... _gentleman_."

* * *

There was a pounding behind his eyes, the adrenaline of his actions flooded his system, forcing him into moving faster, hitting harder. He jammed his hook into the lock and twisted, yanking open the door.

"I'm here to rescue you."

_Yes, that sounds perfectly heroic. _

His words spilled out of his mouth, part of his brain focused on counting the seconds to till the queens magic would push past his meager defences, the steadily icy coin pressed against his chest. He focused only to hear that she didn't know how to kill him, cutting her off at 'Nor-!'.

_Well, bugger._

No, no, of course she knew. But she was a simple girl, what would she know about how to kill anything? She would have to know. Would've seen something, noticed an aversion to garlic or some such thing that would at the very least help him blind the bastard.

"There's no time, now." he aimed a well practised hook at the bond, forcing open the cuff, coaxing her to him with his hand. "We'll talk later. Escape first."

"How?" she said, no doubt thrown by the abrupt change in their conversation. From killing her first tormentor to escaping the second, she caught his shirt in her hands. "We're leagues above the ground, guards are coming up the stairs, and there are bars on the window!"

"There _were,_ bars on the window."

* * *

"So tell me," he kissed her bare shoulder - his little damsel in distress, the virgin, named Abigail but much more fond of Goldilocks - and dragged his nose up to her earlobe. "How'd you end up workin' for the queen, love?"

She was still shy by the candle light, but keen enough. She had the sheets pulled over her chest, but allowed his fingers to draw nonsense lines on her shoulders and back, her bare skin glowing.

"I didn't have a choice." she said simply, turning to see him, wonderfully mussed and flushed. "I- she wanted everyone with magic to swear an oath to her and the castle, because only the best of the best could serve her. I know powders and charms quite well, my sister got by on her knowledge of herbs." she smiled faintly, pressed a shy kiss on his mouth that he returned lazily.

"You had enough guts to run away." he murmured, running gentle kisses over her chin. "Guts for glory is always a good trade in, love, never forget it. Tell me about the queen."

"She was terrible." she said rather simply, and curled closed to him, wriggling so that their bellies touched. Her forearms pressed against his chest, and she ran her nails lightly through the hair there, something she'd found earlier on and had become fascinated with.

Among other things.

"Killian?"

"Mm?"

"You're going into the castle, aren't you?"

He continued to kiss her, over the bone of her collar and shoulder, though he made an agreeable noise as not to be rude.

"Thirty seconds is not much time to get to where you need to go, and get out again." she swallowed, something he was acutely aware of, being close to her throat. "I-... There might be a powder or two I could give you, if you told me what the plan was."

He lifted his head to hers, both brows cocked. She smiled more widely at him, and ducked her head to under his chin.

"I discovered I had a... talent, for breaking into, and out of, places, maybe."

"Cheeky." he purred, and considered the offer. "You'd help me further than you already have?"

"You could say I'm fond of you." she said in a small voice, pressing a tender, wet kiss, on the underside of his jaw. "Not that you'll stick around. Though you've given me more in one day than any man has ever given me. Your help, my first shot of whiskey, wielding a sword... This."

She ran her tongue up to his ear, something that made his whole body react with a devious purr. She giggled sweetly, nosing his pierced earlobe, before kissing his cheek.

"Of course," she mused, a little more shyly. "These powders would take time to manufacture, but more time to steal- Acquire. I meant to say, acquire. I should think you'd have to stay here a while. And of course, I'd need a warm bed to be at my best..."

He chuckled, rolled his eyes to the ceiling. He was a god, honestly.

"Of course. Every great woman needs a warm bed, darling, who am I to deny it of you?"

"Exactly." she said, and ran slightly harder nails over his chest.

* * *

"I don't understand." the lady was reeling, apparently trying to pry herself from him. "Who are you? Why are you doing this? What were you saying about Rumplestiltskin? Did he send you-?"

"Darling, I know you're going to find this hard to do but-" he yanked her under his arm rather roughly, digging at his hip with his one good hand. "-just, shut up, for a minute, would you?"

He threw down a bit of offensive magic, shielding her eyes from the blast; he turned the entire bag of blue powder upside down and counted to three, watching it settle and thicken in the air. He looked to her, who was pushing at his grip the same way a kitten would wrestle a lion - then launched both himself and the lady from the crumbling ledge just as the Queen broke the door down with a fantastic, dramatic flourish.

"Noooo!" she cried, the sound torn from her mouth.

_You'd think I stole her damn babe._

They fell, the woman gasped and wrapped arms around his waist, hiding her eyes in his shoulder with nothing to vent her fear but a desperate: "Oh_, no!"_

He saw the queen, hovering over the edge of the holey wall, her fist glowing as she raised it at him. He twisted to hide the woman with his body, so the jarring magic had no where to go but his spine with a terrifically loud _CRACK!_

They fell, softened by a cloud of swirling, glittering mist, straight onto his horse. He maneuvered her flat against his body, trapped between his arms and thighs, as the horse reared, frightened by the sudden and heavy drop, missing the Queen's wrath by inches.

He kicked the stallion into galloping, growling out a curse as it took off in a full bolt, leaning heavily against the princess, who didn't hesitate a damn second to snatch the reins from his hand and steer. He was puffing, hurting, falling off one side, but she pulled his arms around her waist and made the horse leap over a fast raising fence.

Guards encircled them - she snatched the bag of red powder from his hip and started throwing fistfuls of the stuff, making the horse scare and run of his own tuition. She held onto him, held onto the horse, breaths coming in loud enough that he could hear them over all the other noise.

"The sea," he rasped, but she either didn't hear or ignored him, her hand tightening on his arm as the horse leapt over a fallen log and hit the ground with a jarring force that traveled through his legs and up into his body.

He grunted, slumped forward, his body uncooperative.

"Stay awake." the princess urged. "Stay awake!"

The last thing he was aware of was the sweet smell of her skin pressed flat under his nose, and the fact that she was going to be more useless than tits on a bull.


	2. Chapter 2

"Are... are you awake, now?"

He cracked open one eye, near blinded by all the green. Bright white light, like needles, pierced through his lashes and he grunted, hefting his arm over his brow.

"Where are we?"

"I... I don't know. The horse bucked us off and, well, I couldn't get us back on before it ran away..."

_Useless._

"I bandaged your wounds, and we're safe, there were some guards a few hours ago but they were... distracted." she moved, hair tucked neatly behind her ears, blocking enough sun from his eyes so that he recovered from hiding. "I may have been bathing at the time."

That, however, made him bark a laugh, because she was so sheepish and clearly virginal. He squinted at the pretty blush on her face, the gentle gleam of pride in her eyes. She was fresh faced and pouty mouthed, he could see why she had been commandeered to begin with.

"I'm Belle." she said, and pivoted so that she kept the sun out of his face, until she could help him into sitting, hands careful and clinical on his shoulders, and nothing more. "You are?"

"Killian Jones." he squeezed his eyes shut again - everything hurt. Right down to his bones, the queen had hit him like a tidal wave. She pressed a cool hand to his brow and made a dissatisfied noise.

"You still have a fever, Sir." she mentioned, and rose to her feet. "Stay sitting. I'll fetch water."

He looked around, seeing that she'd made a small fire for the night before, and the blue dress she had once worn was folded neatly under his head. There were marks upon the ground where she had lain, head-to-head with him, and a few broken branches to evidence her exploration.

"Where'd you get your dress?" he grumped, noticing now that she wore some horrid, shapeless thing made of thick, mossy coloured wool - she looked at it, coloured slightly, and passed him a leather bag full of fresh water. He drained it, not realizing his thirst until he was drinking.

"Not important." he barely made out the mutter. He wiped his forearm across his mouth, smirking at her slightly.

"Stole it, didn't you?"

"I-" she sat on a log behind him, wrapping arms around her knees. On her feet were sloppily made, soft brown boots. "I didn't steal it."

"So how'd you get it?"

"I- I traded for it."

"What did you have to trade?" She went the prettiest shade of pink under his amused prodding. He looked around, felt for his well earned tokens and frowned slightly. "Something of mine?"

"No, not yours. Though I probably should've at least gone through your things..." she looked so disheartened by her own actions, so upset that he could read what she'd done as the emotions trampled over her delicate features.

"You stole something else and traded it." he narrowed his eyes at her silence. Got rid of the evidence. "That's fair smart, for a lass out of royalty."

"I'm not royalty." she protested instantly, raising her eyes to his face. "Nobility. And hardly, at that. My father is a knight."

"Uh huh."

_Same smell, different name. _

His eyes flicked to the cut of the dress - it was too tight around the tiny waist, too wide at the shoulders and every where else, looking more like a badly hemmed, moldy potato sack. The straps falling down smooth, creamy skin of her shoulders, though, so he supposed that was a plus. He noticed the same ugly, itchy woolen cloak pooled around his waist, and used his hook to lift it, raising both eyebrows at it.

"It's a little early to be dressing us the same, isn't it, love?"

She opened her mouth to voice a little choked noise, and hurriedly fixed her dress, making awkward spluttering noises, trying to find her voice.

"'Love'?" she repeated, scandalized.

"It's an endearment. You know. Darling, sweetness, beauty..." And yet she still struggled to draw a proper breath. "What's the matter with 'love'?"

"You- You don't even know me- and you call me 'love'?"

He rolled his eyes. Nobles. _Honestly. _Such a sheltered bunch.

"I apologise, then. Forgive a man for dropping a common endearment in reference to the lady."

"It's just... where I come from... It's a personal title, to be called someone's love." she looked at him through her lashes, fiddling with a thread of wool already beginning to unravel from her dress. "I didn't mean to tell you off."

"Mm." he waved it off, looking down at his precisely threaded shirt. He had never had a shirt so neatly tied; even with two hands, it seemed like too much of a bother. So his eyebrows hiked further as he hooked the lacings and peered at his own chest, to see white bandages wrapped doubly around his body.

"Does it still hurt?" she asked in a very small voice.

"'Still'?" he turned his eyes up to see her very pointedly not looking his way. "What d'you mean, 'still'?"

"Well, that's what I meant when you opened your eyes..." she got to her feet, massaging her ribs, no doubt due to the suffocating waist of her dress. "You kept waking up, but you weren't properly focused. The spell was bad, it was under your skin and you kept, uh - scratching, with the, with your, er, hook. I had to sit on your arm to get you to stop."

His eyebrows pitched as high as they could, but she missed it, looking at her feet.

"The spell she hit me with." he said, slyly aiming the conversation at magic. "D'you know what it was?"

"No. I know it nearly hit me, until you swung me out of the way." she looked at him, sincerity and gratitude in her sunny sea coloured eyes. "Thank you, so much, for that. And for breaking me out of that tower to begin with. I'm very grateful."

"You're welcome." he grinned at her, one of those ones he was sure made skirts fly up around heads sometimes. But not hers - no, she just beamed at his face and sat there in contented silence. "Where're you going now?"

"Well, you've still a fever more than I like. You need to keep drinking or you won't heal any quicker. I'll be back shortly." she said, and took the empty leather from him.

"You don't know these woods." he pointed out.

"Neither do you." she accused with all due assurance. At his expression she seemed unsure. "I thought you were a pirate?"

"And yet you stayed vigilant through my illness. I can't help but think it was because you got to take my clothes off."

She didn't like that, because she was backing away and trying to explain her mostly undressing him with such distinction and vehemence it was beginning to wound his pride. He tried to get up to placate her, his intentions all (mostly) pure, but the small action of getting onto his knees made the colour drain out of his face and head start to spin.

He landed with forearms on the ground, head spilling, bile rising up in the back of his throat. The pain wasn't from just one place, it was from everywhere, intense and hot, like rum poured over a million wounds.

But she was there, easing him carefully into reclining, his back cushioned by her strategically placed blue dress. She looked worried, feeling his temperature, forgetting to be embarrassed as she wrestled his shirt off, gliding careful fingers over the bandages on his body. He caught his breath, grunting and sinking back against the log.

"Are you-?" she caught the question before it left her, because he was _not _alright. "Is it your chest?"

"It's everywhere." he growled between gritted teeth. "But it's easing."

"I hope it leaves soon." she told him. "For both our sakes."

"Sick of me already, love?" at her barely supressed squeak, he fixed a steady look on her, impatient with her uneasiness already. "What are your plans, then? Where are you going, after this?" he nodded to his chest, which was already beginning to itch.

She took pause, her breath puffing out against his face. She folded her legs politely to one side, sat beside him, her dress straps falling down.

"The Dark Castle." she said clearly, and surely.

"Sounds charming." he drawled. "Where is that?"

"I-... I don't exactly know." she admitted. "But I'll find out, and I'll go back."

Back.

_The Dark Castle?_

"You're... going back to the crocodile?" he said slowly, all amusement draining from the entire madness of the situation. "What the bloody hell _for_, woman?"

She seemed shocked by the hardness in his words, shifting on her legs, fretting at her bottom lip with her teeth. He found the swell of blood underneath her skin painted them such a pretty colour, such a tempting shade of warm pink. She turned her head, he thought to hide from him, but she was soon kicking the log from underneath his back, drawing the cloak up over the both of them. He hit the floor with the blue dress curving his back, glaring at her as she clapped a hand over his mouth.

The carriage clattered past, the sounds of marching soldiers in full armour clanking and squeaking past. He pulled her hand down from his mouth but kept it on his throat, fearing too much movement would draw unnecessary attention. No wonder the cloak was such a hideous colour green - it blended in with the foliage around them.

"Clever beauty, are you?" he murmured, lifting the corner of the cloak with his hook.

"I read a lot." she whispered in return, sitting slightly to peer out from behind her own corner. "Michelangelo used a trick like this in _The Great Revenge_."

"Never heard of it." he mentioned, drawing her scandalized eyes, yet again.

"But it's a classic!" she exclaimed, utterly mortified. "It's one of the greats- written by Alex DeMort-"

"Never heard of him."

"Her!" she was gaping at him now. "Alex_andra_, DeMort!"

"I don't know if you've realized, or not-" he tried to sit - and she was there in an instant to help him, pulling the log back to support him. "-but I'm a pirate. The things I read are maps."

She just sighed, like that was possibly the saddest thing she'd ever heard. Clearly, books and reading were important to her, but it was just another useless trait about her. Although perhaps she'd read something in the crocodile's studies, something key to his undoing...

"You're looking ill." she said, concerned once more. "I'll get some more water, in a little bit. I'm worried to go too far in case the queen is wandering around."

He nodded, agreeing to the logic. But he caught her arm, tugging her back as she made to rise again. Her dress strap slipped, and without much thinking about it, he slipped his hook under it and put it back in place.

"This dress was made for someone taller than you, love." he mused, drawing his eyes along the line of her collarbone, back up to her face. "You're a nice girl. Royal. Or noble, whatever. Why the hell are you going back to him?"

She stared back at him, totally unafraid, steady and sure. He was perplexed by where this bravery and sure-footedness had come from. Maybe a sense of obligatory duty? He never could understand that.

"What deal did you make, to end up with him any way?" he muttered, narrowing his eyes on her face. "What did you trade, to pay the price of living with that- that-"

"Man." she supplied, and continued on before he could interrupt. "My papa called for him. Our fiefdom was flailing under the war and our people were suffering. I was the price for many, many more people. It was my decision, and I would do it again."

He pondered that, briefly scratching at his ribs, before she smacked his hand away, well practised.

"How long've we been out here?" he mused, quirking a half grin at her.

"Nearly three days." she replied, eyes twinkling like sunlight on the sea.

"And why are you going back to him?"

He thought that maybe he could trick the answer away from her, lull her into a false sense of security and coax the truth out of her mouth. But she didn't even flinch, she seemed to expect it, actually, sadly smiling, now.

She rolled on her knees, dusting off her skirt as she rose, fixing the loose strap of her dress as she stared into the forest, searching for the queen or her men. He waited, sure the answer was seconds away from explaining every thing, but she just turned on her heel, nearly blending into the scenery, if not for her milky skin, hair and boots.

"Woman," he called, as loudly as he dared. "I'll get it out of you."

She didn't even pause, she kept walking, her answer directed into the surrounding woods.

"I fell in love with him."


	3. Chapter 3

_Aude_

_xx_

* * *

_She likes reading, she's not entirely useless, but she's stupid as a block of wood. Fancy falling in love with a monster._

After near an hour and a half of waiting, he'd thought she'd skipped out on him, struggling to his feet, throwing up water and bile from the pain in his body. He managed to stay standing by hooking into the nearest branch and heaving until he was running dangerously low on air.

He kept the cloak wrapped around his shoulders, but he was pouring with sweat, moving hardly half a mile the hours later when she found him. Her dress was muddy in places and wet at the bottom - her boots were missing and she was pale, under her furious red blotches.

"The Queen?" he rasped, and fell to his knees.

She felt for his fever, let out a shaky, relived breath.

"Yes." she swallowed, and uncovered the leather bag of water. "You're feeling better - but you look worse. Have some water."

He could barely lift his arm to his mouth, so she obliged, propping his head in the crook of her arm and tipping the water to his lips. He guzzled it without drawing breath, draining the skin in seconds. It was sweet to his tongue, after all the vomit.

"Did they hurt you?"

"No, they didn't. They scared me, and chased me, but I'm alright."

"Thought you'd buggered off, somewhere." he admitted, and cocked a brow. "Why'd you come back?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but apparently thought better of it, and closed her lips in a kind smile. She checked over her shoulder as though they'd be there, fixing that infernal dress strap into place, before putting her hand under his arm.

"Can you walk a little more? There's an inlet of water that will do you some good."

"Is it far from the ocean?" he wanted to know.

She didn't know the answer to that, but he would when he got there. So he agreed to be moved, pushed painfully to his feet, let the woman pick up his hook and put it around her shoulders. They struggled for perhaps an hour more - it was regrettably easier, with her help, but still bloody difficult, too much the same.

As soon as he could smell the salt and brine, it was like it filled him with energy, and he quickened their collective stride.

"The ocean's not far." he told her, and lifted his arm from her as the water came into view, yanking his shirt off, slamming his shoulder hard against a tree in an effort to kick off his left boot. She crouched, unravelled the ties, and did the same for the other. He grinned and let her tend the boots, before simply falling into the water, pants, jewels and all.

He pushed off, swam into the middle of the small pocket of water, breaking the glass like surface only because he didn't want to die by drowning. He looked back to see the noble woman had gathered up his shirt and boots, shaking her head at him.

"You should join me." he declared brightly.

"I'm not taking this dress off when you're conscious. I had enough trouble when you weren't." she said mildly, and folded his shirt over her arm.

"Really?" he mused with a terrible grin, wading forward with his good arm. "I promise I'd close my eyes, if you wanted to come for a paddle."

"No, thankyou." she coloured, but looked at ease enough. "Besides, I can't swim."

"To my lack of reading, your lack of swimming." he declared. "You're a full grown woman, how do you not know how to swim?"

"I lived in a castle the majority of my life." she said easily. "And ladies do not swim."

He rolled his eyes.

"That's stupid. Every body swims."

"Every body reads." she countered, and raised her brows at him.

_Nobility. No sense._

He dunked back under the water without further comment, let the cold sink into his muscles and soothe them. He did a few long strokes, went as far as he could to the bottom of the pool, then kicked up again, taking in the air and leaning back until he was staring at the pale purple sky, stars twinkling an early hello.

He rubbed the sweat from under his arms, across the back of his neck, lower back where it had beaded uncontrollably in his painful traipse across the ground. With a twinge of realization, he ran a hand over his bandages, which were starting to soak in the salt water. It was going to _hurt_, when it reached his wounds, but he didn't care, and would continue not to care, until it did.

A hunger in his stomach prompted his swim short - she had set up another small, smokeless fire, and was busy concentrating on something balanced over it. What a clever noble.

"What're you cookin', lass?" he said, emerging from the depths. His leather was already pulling taught across his thighs, but he ignored it, putting a hand on his belly, to dull the loud kranken's growl.

"Bread." she said simply, without looking up at him. "I rinsed your shirt. It's still drying."

"Ah. Right. Thank you."

"You're welcome." she said easily, and continued to ignore him, half naked, and dripping wet, as he was. She broke the bread with him, which was good enough, if a little dry without topping. They ate in near silence, until the sky had darkened enough to see full stars, and he was regretting wearing his pants into the water.

"Do you know him?" she asked quietly, looking at the crust in her hands.

"Who?" he pushed the food to the side of his mouth.

"Rumplestiltskin." she was watching him, so she didn't miss the scowl that darkened his features.

"The Monster you fell for?"

"He's not a monster." she said plainly, shooting him a hard look. "You don't know him."

"Well that answers your question, then, dunnit?" he swilled the bread around his mouth, gulped it down, and fixed his eyes on her. "I know enough of him to know he's spelled you into it."

"He did not." she scoffed.

"He did so."

"He did not."

"Then he must've kept you all to himself for some unfathomable length of time so you'd have no other options."

"It wasn't_ that_ long."

"Then you're a silly girl."

"I'm far from being silly, or a girl!"

"Then you're a typical, stupid woman." he said flatly, and watched how hurt those words made her.

"I am not-!"

"He's a cold blooded reptile who'd take years to pay penance for the things he's done, and even then, it'd never, _ever _be enough. He could use every spell in his arsenal, and yet he can _never_ right those wrongs. He never does anything unless it comes from deal making or to his own satisfaction - he could've won those stupid wars with a click of his fingers, but no, he just sat back and let them garner enough desperation to create his-"

He spat the word.

_"-Business."_

She waited for his breath to even out before she lifted fierce, defiant eyes to him.

"I am not stupid." she said finally. "I think you'll find I'm far from being typical. Goodnight." she simply tossed her bread in the fire where he could've eaten it, and pulled her legs over the low branch she was sitting on. She turned her back on him, lay flat on the ground, without so much as her dress as a comfort.

"Oi. You can't do that."

She refused him an answer.

He sighed, rubbed his eyes, and decided to leave the conversation as it was. He would have enough time to pick it up later. He would open with a shot about how she thought she loved him, but how she didnt know where he lived, or how he could die. Yes.

He pressed a hand against his self inflicted gauges, which were under his wrappings, going crusty due to the salt. He unwound them carefully, seeing long red scratches and two rather large, weeping ones. They were precariously sewn together by natural means - she apparently didn't have the means or the guts for surgery. He huffed, got up and let his shirt fall down to hide them, picking up the folded blue dress and the cloak.

"Here." he said, stepping over her to see her face. "Take these."

"I don't want them." she said grumpily, her eyes tightly closed.

"Come now, love." he drawled slowly, making her frown. "Allow me to be a gentleman. Lift your head."

She just rolled over, now facing the fire. He rolled his eyes up to the sky, pondering why it was he was putting up with a damsel who did so dearly think she was in love with his most hated enemy.

It was then he had a thought. A curious little thought.

If she loved him, this beautiful, gentle woman, perhaps that crocodile had at least developed the tiniest affection for her, in return.

"Belle?" he said roughly, dropping to his knees, holding the cloak over his hook to appear maybe just a little bit more innocent. The use of her name made her jolt, and she turned on her back, propping up on her elbow. Her little feet, he noticed, curled over the other and under the hem of her dress.

"I-" _I'm not saying sorry. You're wrong for thinking he's more man than animal. He's bewitched you somehow, because he's a scaly, ugly beast, and you're-... _"I just have one question. That's all I want the answer to, and then I'll leave you alone about the whole - saga." _Until tomorrow._

She furrowed her brows slightly, adorable in her confusion. He waited for her answer with faked patience.

"I... suppose. If you'll leave me alone about it."

"I will." it was a gentleman's promise, made in the mouth of a scoundrel. She eyed him warily, sitting up more fully, to better prepare for his one simple question.

"Do you think he loved you?" he asked her, quietly, tilting his head to the side.

And for the first time, her bottom lip pouted, chin dimpled, water lined her eyes. She was a desperate woman, this beauty, and she was in love with a beast, he could see it on her face, playing memories in her eyes.

"I know he does." she replied, low, husky, certain.

He sighed, inflating with the instant need to tell her differently. Instead, he handed her the dress and the cloak, got to his feet, and retreated to the other side of the fire, arms crossed over his chest like shields.

He hated to think that someone he hated was loved. He didn't deserve love. He deserved hatred and loneliness, a bitter socket in his chest where his heart had once beat. He deserved to have a hole punched in him by no means of magic, but by the force of emotion, all of their own vengeance.

And with that firmly in mind, Killian Jones began to adjust his plan.


	4. Chapter 4

He'd spent hours obsessing over variations on the plan, going through details to questions he was sure she wouldn't actually ask him. But just in case, he needed to be prepared, the logic and reasoning was there, and the noble wouldn't stand a chance.

"Belle." he said, hand carefully braced on her upper arm. She was utterly exhausted from three days of taking care of him and a day of excitement, running from the queen's guard. He'd let her sleep until noon, venturing to the mouth of the inlet and flagging down his crew with the last of the magic that Abbey had gifted him.

So it was understandable that when the poor girl woke to several pirates instead of one, and was a touch confused.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty." he grinned in spite of his mood, which was mostly sour. "We've got things to do."

"Oh." she said, and rubbed her eyes. "How long was I asleep?" she glanced at the sun, now high in the sky, and her mouth popped open in shock.

"Long enough." he got to his feet, look out to the mouth of where ocean met land and poured in. "These are my boys. Boys, make yourselves known to the lady."

Peg-Leg Pete, Dunce and Phil were men who could be trusted around a woman.

Peg-Leg and Dunce were madly in love with each other, and Phil was a poet. Killian had swam out to them sometime in the morning, explained the situation in as brief terms as time would allow, then hand picked them to navigate the boat and gather forest supplies while they were down on land.

It took him a long time to figure out how exactly he would explain to the crew that he'd brought home a damsel, let alone one that he wasn't shagging, they weren't allowed to shag, and they had to mind their more colorful selves around.

That was good thing about being a captain, though - he did what he wanted, because he could.

Peg-Leg had bushels of edible goods and Dunce carried with him a bee's nest he'd smoked out for the honey, but they all greeted her cheerfully enough, politely enough. Killian's chest twinged at the idea of venturing back into the sea again, bracing salt against still raw wounds.

Phil, as the Captain knew he would, was coaxing the lady with beautiful and soft flowing words, settling her into comfort quicker than any grog had ever done. He was a fair haired, older fellow, with a tongue of silver and kind eyes. Never mind he had once shoved a quill into the eye of a verbal attacker and wrote a scathing sonnet on his forehead in the man's blood - he had moments, as all writers did.

That was why Killian liked him.

"We're going to have to wade out through that." he tacked on the end of an easy explanation that the safest place for them to be would be on water. He turned to see her looking nervous.

"But there's a boat..." was her weak protest.

He sighed quietly.

"Yes, there is a boat, for four pirates and what we need them to take to the ship without being spoilt. There's no room for Phil nor I, either."

Of course there was, she was tiny, but the men just agreed, knowing his words were rarely for nothing.

"It shouldn't be too deep, you can walk through it 'till you get close enough that we can throw a rope out. Hope the Queen hasn't got eyes on the shore."

"I will." she tittered nervously, and fretted with her dress straps until he had washed his face and re-wrapped his chest, twisting the cloak until it was like a long sausage, knotting it once and tossing it into the boat.

Waste not, want not.

Phil was not a strong swimmer, and Killian had one hand. They were the ones who would need the help, in reality, but if she caught that fact, she said nothing. His plan, knock on wood, would go so much more smoothly should she just keep quiet, as she was.

"Right, then, love. Hold up your skirt or you'll sink. We'll go first, no peeking." he grinned because - _of course _he was going to peek, just as Phil, and the entire crew was going to try.

He marched into the water, wading through with the shipmate, till he was up to his armpits in salt and it smoothed out for him to walk along. He turned and checked - she had chosen to go in without heeding his advice, and was looking breathy and panicked, the water up to her chin, arms frantically pushing at the water.

He rolled his eyes briefly.

"No harm done." he told her. "Breathe easy, lass, or you'll work yourself up."

"Easy for you to say." she retorted to the back of his head. He waited for her at the mouth, then reached out with his hook, and caught her by the skirt, dragging her over until she was side along, wiggling against him. "What- what are you doing?!"

"Look." he nodded out to the bay, where the Jolly Roger was docked. "That's my girl. Isn't she beautiful?"

_What would she know about ships?_

"Wonderful." she told him, sincerely, but for the shade of nerves tingling it grey. "Can we go on land, now?"

"Not yet, lass. Phil?"

"There once was a lady from Thim, who didn't know how to swim; her man was a pauper, he was sick but adored her, so he dunked her right up to her chin-"

"Not that one!" he barked a laugh. "Something a mite more pleasant?"

"Theeeeeere was a young lady who swam e'rry day, in nuthin' but knickers and easy to lay-"

"Pleasant for the lady, you fool!"

He hummed something slow and mournful, his voice not all that pretty, but soothing the fretting noble all the same. She had at first, clung to his shoulders to lift out of the water, but was now more at ease, though her legs were constantly kicking. Killian briefly fantasized about hoisting each leg around his hips and ridding her of her gods-awful dress - but alas, he was jerked back to reality as a rope descended with a splash.

Phil went first, able to climb up unaided. They, however, needed to tie the rope around their backside and under their legs, her sitting upon his lap as they were heaved skyward. The dress had absorbed water like a sponge - but in all fairness, he had told her to hold it up.

She pulled herself onto the deck with only a small help from Kong - who was exotic in appearance and fighting technique, but who was smaller than average with a bull ring through his nose.

She was momentarily overwhelmed as the thirty-odd strong crew assessed her, eyes all trending on her tiny waist, and the wet cling of skirt on thigh. She cleared her throat.

"How do you do?" she said carefully, and bowed her head.

"Alright, love." Smith said cheerfully, bounding forward to bow theatrically to her. "I'm Smith."

"Yes." she smiled, unsure. "Hello."

"I'm Smee." the man said, sweeping his beanie from his head and stepping forward to take and kiss her hand. "Pleasure to have you, lady, a mighty pleasure indeed."

"I'm Laurence." said the boom of their resident medic, who was huge and black and frightening, who hated hurting anybody but was strong as an ox. "Welcome, lady Belle."

"Th-Thankyou, Laurence." she blinked, actively having to tip her head up to see his face. Killian was sure that at his height, the big man could see straight down her dress, no matter how tightly it clung.

_Lucky bastard._

"Willhelm. Well, Will. Mates call me Will." he was a scraggly youth who's only job was to sit in the crow's nest and keep an eye on things. Killian had picked him up because he had one eye, and as a member of the handicapped, knew what it was to be underestimated. He was fairly useless, but he didn't eat much or take up too much room, and had always spotted reefs and advancing ships before he did.

"You have mates?" teased Kong, who then advanced to shove his way forward. "Milady. Kong, at your beck and call."

"Good sir." she bowed, her eyes now twinkling.

"Welcome aboard my pride and joy, lady Belle." Killian offered. "Play nice, men." he was only half mocking as he pulled his wet shirt off and went to Laurence who was disapproving of the salt in his scratches.

There was a small silence, before the rest of them introduced themselves, with nods and names or full blown sentences, life stories and paragraphs of introduction. They crowded around her like they'd never seen a woman before, peering at her like she was some kind of exotic, noble, animal, studying how she treated their fellow man.

"Doesn't seem timid, at least." Chase mentioned privately.

"She's not properly timid," he replied, allowing Laurence to clean the inside of his scratches, which had popped open some time after his first swim. "Nor is she properly brave. Little bit useless, but I'll get what I need from her eventually."

"You usually do." the man drawled, provoking a laugh from the Captain.

And that was the extent of his welcome.

* * *

Most of the men had commandeered her in conversation, one Killian couldn't identify the means of. She seemed happy enough, though there was a time or two they roared with laughter and she went red and hid her face behind both hands. They sailed the rest of the day, until they were a decent ways away from the castle and weighed anchor.

"We're collecting the rest of the men. Left 'em in taverns and whorehouses while I went off to rescue you." he informed the back of her head. "And we have to pick up a thing or two. Dunce'll sell whatever he's gotten out of that beehive that we don't want and we've things to trade. You're coming."

"Why?" she asked slowly.

"Trust me?" he blinked innocently at her.

She really had no choice but to agree.

"Good." he motioned to the landing where she nervously tread, before being swept up in men and shuffled down to the dock.

They arrived at the first whorehouse, which he wouldn't think of putting her in if she were a stranger on the street, sticking to her like a stubborn burr.

"Trust me, darling," he murmured over his shoulder, where he'd hidden her behind his body with Smith's huge blonde gait guarding one side and Laurence and hid thick black stance on the other. "You don't want to be caught alone at a place like this. They'll have you chained up and sold off faster'n you can blink."

"Doesn't any one do anything about this?" she whispered.

"Not anyone fond of keeping their tongue." he said in a low voice.

"You keep your eyes on these ones," Smith offered. "They're the nastier bunch of us all."

"Hmm." Killian nodded, agreeing with the statement.

"Needn't worry, lady Belle." Laurence's voice had an echoing, unearthly quality to it. "We're not all so bad."

Killian sent her a wry smirk. "But rumors do have to come from somewhere."

"So don't hang about any o' these by yourself." Smith said, smoothing out his spine to appear bigger.

Killian then shifted and put his hand on his sword, raising his chin at a pair of prying men, eager to see what kind of booty he was hiding. He could feel her shrinking behind him, feeling Laurence expanding beside him.

"Keep walking, gents." the captain advised.

"How-...How long are we going to be here?" she asked in a husky murmur.

"Well, we left the men with enough rum to drown a small country, and their pockets were well full of gold. Some've moved on to gambling by now, others, Madame Fina's down the road. Much nicer place. We'd just better pick these lads up first."

Because if there were less men around, she would know who to look for.

There was plenty more interest in her, hidden between two large men and a man with a hook for a hand. She let out a breath that was more shocked than any thing as the four cabin mates stumbled out, blood shot through the eyes, defensive bruising around the bared skin of their arms, and scratches on their faces. They all grinned, though, and greeted the captain with particular bounces to their steps. Killian opened the conversation with:

"This is Belle, and she is not to be touched."

"On your word, Cap'in!" they gave her brief, disinterested looks, while Hook rattled off names, not bothering to point out who was who.

"Tom, Jon, Micheal and Adam."

_Trouble, _she told herself, and committed each face to memory.

They went along to the second, much more female friendly whorehouse. Killian allowed her to keep closer to him than her usual arm-length standard, after the first fiasco at the raper's house it was quite understandable.

He threw a few golden coins at the harlot behind the counter (Belle muttered something about him mentioning he had money earlier, but he missed it, over the coos and adoration of the various women he'd known in the last few years,) and proceeded to reacquaint himself with one or two of the whores who'd stuck in his memory.

_Particularly flexible._

_Nice arse._

_Perfect boobs. _

"You dog," said Madame Fina, coming to fiddle idly with his shirt strings. She pouted a red painted mouth at him. "What have you need of me, precious?"

"Something a mite more comfortable for my lady friend, here." he murmured before he was too distracted, planting a warm kiss on her heavily made-up cheek. "She needs lady things, I'd guess a bath would be heavenly and hearty meal wouldn't do her any harm. I'll be back later to pick her up."

"Aye, Captain." purred a dark haired woman from behind the head whore, Randy Rhonda, taking Belle under the arm. "As you wish, Captain."

"What's happening?" she grabbed his bicep with both hands, eyes wide. "What did you do?"

"I didn't sell you off, if that's what you were thinking." he rolled his eyes. "They're gonna dress you and get you clean. Fix you up with woman's necessities for travel. Unless, of course, you'd like me to do that for you?"

He thanked every sea god he knew that she didn't pick up he meant to get her pregnant.

"Oh." she said, and looked back at the bemused women, apologetically. "Okay."

"I'll be back, love." he assured her, and gently pried her fingers away from his arm. "Swear."

She nodded, glancing at Smith and Smee, (and Phil who was nearly rutting in a corner, vastly distracted) before she gathered her wits and disappeared behind a tasselled doorway, surrounded by curious whores. She, of course, was far out of her league, and refused a few, more risqué dresses. He found majority of his men where he left them, nursing women or rum or cards, who cheered when they saw him.

He briefly explained what had happened and how they were plus a party. They didn't mind, really, as long as she wasn't squeamish and wouldn't get in the way.

"I make no promises." he said, with a grin. "But she's a pretty lass, to be sure."

He found a ravenous woman who went by the name of Glitter, and further found a satisfying half hour with her behind the cabins. She had good prices and no questions about his bodily wounds or lack of a hand, which he paid extra for. She came out the other end with shaking kness, a dazed look in her eyes and ruined for other men.

He returned to the men with a grin and rounded them off, leaving behind only three who were too drunk to stand and mostly unnecessary anyway.

When they returned to the whore house he had to keep them outside so he didn't have to deal with squirreling them out all over again. Belle was flushed, and clearly anxious to get out, though she seemed to be intently listening to Randy Rhonda and her sexual exploits.

"Gorgeous work, love." he mentioned, dropping a lengthy kiss to her pink painted mouth. "You're a goddess."

"You taste like another whore." she purred. "Should I be offended?"

"Hardly. Can't help myself when I'm here, can you blame me?" he grinned, bit her lobe, and surveyed the furiously embarrassed noble. She was wearing an off the shoulder gown, in a pretty pale blue, trimmed in lavender accents. The hem was, of course, questionably short, but they'd at least given her some thick soled, respectable boots. The dip at her chest was a little low, but the waist wasn't as restrictive, and she looked more comfortable with clean and brushed hair.

"Gave her a more simple dress in red." Rhonda told him with a laugh. "Though she doesn't seem to like that one."

"It's-" the noble stopped, glanced at the bag by her feet. "- Just a bit... Revealing."

"You'll end up wearin' it, mark me." Rhonda had done a stint with a pirate chap a few years ago, and had worked his ship as one of the crew towards the end of his life. "Have fun, remember what I done told you, yeah?"

"Of course. Thank you." she said with a smile, picking up the moss colored cloak and fixing it around her shoulders. "I won't forget."

"Good girl." the harlot winked, and pulled Killian down into a blazing kiss. "On your way, Captain Jones."

"Right." he peered down her dress. "I'll miss you when I'm gone."

"I very much doubt that." she purred, and shoved him in the chest. "You take care o' that girl, won't you?"

"Course." he took her hand, kissed her knuckles, and bid her adieu, rejoining his men - and Belle - out of doors. She seemed to be gravitating towards Dunce and Peg-Leg Pete, though Smee was trying hard to get her attention and she didn't appear adverse to him. The woman boarded the ship and took a seat, trying to keep out of the way.

This was something he allowed, because pushing off required concentration. He hadn't been thinking of anything else, but pretended to forget her until nightfall.

* * *

"Here." he said, passing her a plate of dry meat and cheese. He sat down beside her on the barrel she'd commandeered as her own, thigh pressed against the heavy layers of her dress.

"Thank you." she said with a smile, pulling her skirt from under him. "For the dress, as well. It's very... nice."

"Yes, it is." he agreed, and leaned his elbows on his knees. "The men treat you well?"

"Yes, they do." she accepted the plate he was pushing at her, balancing it on her knees. "They're a very chatty bunch."

"They are now. Wait until the rum wears low and the food goes stale." he nodded to Laurence, the big black hulk of man he was. "They're not all as tender as him. He's who you go to if I'm not around. Has a big respect for women in a way the rest lack."

"Oh." she looked at the plate.

"No need to look so disheartened, love, I'm not likely to go anywhere." he said with a grin. "Now. Here's the key." he flicked a heavy brass key from his sleeve, where he'd hidden it. She seemed only partially impressed by the sleight of hand. As it stood, she was more concerned he was offering her a key to begin with.

"What is this for?" she plucked it from his fingers, thumb ghosting over the intricate curls and wings that made up it's head.

"It's to my personal cabin." he left that hanging in the air for her to stare at him, completely shocked, before he added: "It's where you'll stay."

She was not appeased.

"Where will you sleep?"

"With the men below deck." she didn't look convinced. "I've moved out most of my things - whatever's left in there you can use as you like, as long as you're not, I don't know, setting things on fire."

"Why would I do that?" she asked slowly.

He shrugged.

"Wouldn't be the first time a lady's done some such thing." he nodded to the key. "Don't fuss or be polite, just accept it. Some of the men'll at least try their hand at you, so make sure you lock your door even when you're not in the room. They'll sneak in and wait until there's a locked door between the rest of us. And we don't want that, do we?"

"No." she shook her head. "No, I do not. But-... Surely I can't-"

"I won't sleep easy if there isn't at least a locked door between you and them, and I'll sleep easier again if an ear is on them in the night. Understand?"

"I... thank you. I understand. That's very thoughtful of you."

"Not like they could think of much else, with you in that dress." his eyes dipped to her chest to make a point. "If I could've got you something else, I would've. But as time restricts us..."

"It's better than the green dress." she said cautiously, running a nail over the wings of the key. "I could barely breathe in that one."

"I know." he just wiggled his eyebrows, when she looked suspiciously at him. "Now. We need to talk about where you're going. Just - hear me out, lass."

"Alright." she nodded, and daintily pulled apart some bread.

"You've got it in your head that you're going back to that... Castle. And I'm not going to try and change that. Maybe delay it, a little bit. Think about seeing your father before you go back."

"He won't let me leave again." she said immediately. "He won't let me out of his sight, not again."

"Then you sneak away. You're a clever lass, you'll think of something." he waved that notion away. "You think you're in love with him? You'll find a way. That's not what I came here to discuss."

She gave him a half hearted dirty look.

"Even if he kicked you out." he said with a certain disbelieving drawl. "That doesn't make sense to me. If he loves you, why did he rid himself of you?"

"He thought he didn't deserve me," she mumbled, looking at her plate. She shoved a bit of food into her mouth with and angry chew. "Which is nonsense."

_Sure, love, whatever you think._

"Look," he rubbed the back of his neck, stretched out his legs to work tired muscles. "I don't like it. But I can see you're determined to get on your way to him, and who'm I to deny true love?"

She studied him, her eyes going over his face like she was reading a page.

"I'm gonna make you an offer, alright?" he said, and quirked a smile. "I'm gonna take you home, to your papa, your kingdom. It's on the way to Agraba, which is where I next plan to weigh anchor."

"What's the catch?" she asked.

He shrugged one shoulder, snagging a bit of cheese from her plate.

"No catch." he said, and popped the dairy into his mouth.

"There's always a price." she quoted at him. "I don't understand you. You saved me from the queen, and you didn't even know me. Why would you do this, for me?"

"I'm very fond of your accent, darling." He drawled, making her smother a giggle behind a dainty, if grubby hand.

"But you didn't know my accent before you stormed the castle." She prodded sweetly, and ah, yes, he could see how even a monster like Rumplestiltskin could be keen on her, let her into his world. Who couldn't? She had the innocence of a child, and the lips of a siren.

He smiled, crinkling his eyes at the corners.

"Maybe I've got a soft spot for damsels in distress."

"I wasn't in distress."

"You were trapped in a tower. It's distressful."

"I would've handled it. I can handle more than you think I can." She meant it like a warning, but he didn't really see how in any world she could ever be threatening.

"I think _you_ think you can."

"Don't underestimate me." she dared him, done with a smile. "I don't fight fair."

"I wouldn't fight you." he mused. "Disarm you, contain you, maybe. Like your reptilian love." He mused, and watched as she fluttered her lashes down, partially obstructing his view of her expression. She looked disheartened, sagging slightly, leaning away. Her upper body twisted away, toward the open sea.

"I know you don't understand." she said lowly. "But-... But we... I'm not...Stupid..."

She shook, he could see, the way the moon backlit her made her look like some kind of shivering goddess.

"No, you're not stupid." _Just mostly useless_.

"He didn't trick me." she applied more force behind her words. "I know what I feel."

"Things happen, darling, things we can't control. I left society so I can hardly dictate to you what is wrong or right. We're sailing so you're going to have to tell me what you want at some stage." he got up, reaching down to snag another bit of cheese from her plate, and left her to her thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5

When Belle woke the next morning, she was so comfortable she waited a good long minute before moving. The bed was well worn in, with a dip in the middle, leaving her legs diagonally on one side and arms and head on the other. The Captain had eight pillows, all cushioning some part of her body.

Behind her back, under one leg, wedged between her knees, one behind her arm, two for her head. The sheets were finely woven, soft as silk but sturdier wearing - the quilt was filled with feathers, conforming to her shape.

She let out a long, pleased hum. After four days on ground, and weeks in a mangy dungeon, the bed was heavenly. She rubbed her face against the sheets, rolled around in a moment of self indulgence, and inhaled the smell that had lulled her to sleep the night before.

She shot up when she realized she was practically purring in the captain's bed, because he smelled good. She had worn that horrific blood red dress to bed, and nearly squeaked when she saw how high it had risen on her legs. The thing was mid-thigh, with lace trimming the hem and bust, utterly provocative. Rhonda had insisted she'd end up in it, regardless of whether it be in front of anyone or not, but she had promised herself that it would never happen, not on a shipful of pirates.

She smoothed her hair with her hands, tamed it into something more respectable, the top pulled back into a knot and curls over her shoulders. She maneuvered herself into the pale blue dress, the black boots, and made the bed before she unlocked the door, tucking the key into her boot for safekeeping.

She peered out of the door, to see a few men milling around, a few sleeping in various nooks and crannies of the ship.

"Hi Belle!"

She gasped, the skinny, one eyed boy had dropped out of the sky, hanging on a rope. His feet had slowed and caught his fall, and he grinned cheekily at her, anticipating the fright.

"Good morning, Will." she said, pressing her hand against her chest.

"You remembered my name!" he seemed completely shocked by that, his one eye wide open.

"You remembered mine." she said with a small smile. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"That? Your... dropping out of the sky." she followed the rope all the way up to the crow's nest, which it was connected to.

"Oh, that." he shifted nonchalantly, sitting in the loop like a swing. "I have to get news to the captain quick, so I gotta know how to get to him quick. How'd you sleep?"

"Well, thank you. It's a... nice bed."

"Lonely?" he winked, which in reality was just a blink, considering he had a worn patch over one eye. "I could fix that, if you like?"

"_Willhelm Cropft!_" barked the captain, making the boy startled so hard he swung on the rope, nearly falling out of it. "Back to your post, lad! Eye on the water!"

"Sorry, Cap'in!"

"Move your arse then!"

She watched the scrawny youth scramble frantically and pull himself into the mounted bucket on top of the mast, hoisting his rope up after him. Turning to the sound of the captain's voice, she raised her brows at him, mostly amused.

"He's fifteen and a little runt." he said, shooting the nest a dirty look. "He's yet to actually bed a woman. Ignore him."

"He wasn't doing any harm." she amended. "He's just being a boy."

"He doesn't know what he's talking about." he scoffed.

"And I suppose you've never talked a game you couldn't follow through on?" she said, politely enough. "Never been young and silly, Captain Jones?"

He laughed, sending a naughty grin at her.

"The only game I talk I follow through on, lass." he mused, and offered her his hand with a theatrical bow. "Breakfast?"

She took it, allowing herself to be directed to a table. He made room for her and all the men went quiet when she entered, an uneven amount of eyes on her face. The Captain gave her a bowl of steaming porridge and sat beside her, but left her to silence. The men caught back onto the last dregs of their conversation, and continued without paying her much attention.

Belle finished her porridge, had her bowl snatched from her by the kitchen hand, which the Captain sent him a dark glare for. He patted her shoulder, pointed to a barrel, and said: "Try not to spend all day in the sun. You'll burn."

But that was it, the entirety of what exactly she was supposed to do on a ship.

* * *

Laurence was at least seven foot tall, she surmised.

He had to be. His shoulders were wider than her hips and he didn't have a single ounce of fat anywhere on him, all thick muscle under warm brown skin. He had a single gold hoop through his left ear, and a bald head that was currently covered by an old blue bandanna. Belle was pondering how tall he really was when he lifted his coal black eyes to her, bemused.

She flushed, looking down at her knees, but his resonating chuckle prompted a giggle from her own mouth.

"I didn't mean to stare." she told him honestly.

His answer was an understanding, 'it-happens-all-the-time' smile. He bowed his head to her.

"May I sit with you, milady?"

"Of course!"

She'd claimed one of the barrels on board as her own sort of, personal seat, and the men had done nothing but steer clear of her all day. She jumped to her feet to offer it to him, but he declined with a smile. He folded his lengthy limbs and gracefully sat beside her, resting his boulder of a head against the bannister that kept people from falling over board.

"That's better." he said in his slow, deep voice. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. "I've been on my feet all day."

"I've been sat all day." she said with a smile. "I hope you don't mind that I stand?"

"Be my guest." he opened one sleepy eye. "This is a pirate ship, milady, you don't have to keep social standards about here."

"Then you must'nt, either." she smiled, and stuck out her hand for a handshake. "I insist, you call me Belle."

"Belle _is_ too pretty a name to waste behind a title." he mused, took her hand in his much more massive one, and shook it carefully, eclipsing her with his palm. "Perchance I have a little girl one day, I'd name her Belle."

"You're sweet." she informed him with a laugh, leaning her arms on the banner. They sat (and stood) in comfortable silence together. He smothered a yawn behind his meaty forearm, cracking his neck.

"You're the medic on this ship, aren't you?" she asked him conversationally.

"Yes."

"The captain's chest..." she started, then became unsure of how to exactly phrase her question. "I- tried to at least stop those tears bleeding, keep it from infection...I don't know if I did much good."

"You did well." he encouraged with a warm pat on her hand. "He would'nt of done it himself, were you not there. It wouldv'e done it much worse. Festered or infected, or gone rotten."

"Oh." was all she said. "He was - hit with a spell. Do you know much about them?"

"Not enough." he opened both eyes more fully, blinking slowly. "He mentioned having a fever?"

"I know fevers." she said quietly. "And wounds. I had to take up treating the men from the war. I wasn't allowed near the bigger cuts incase I caught something from the blood."

"A wise move on your behalf." he assured her.

She didn't agree, but kept that to herself. This man, who was sitting by her side while she stood, he was still taller than her belly button. She smiled because it seemed nearly impossible that someone with such size and power behind them had such a kind nature. She thought back to Rumplestiltskin, and his nature, the man behind the scales and high pitched giggle.

Why was she still surprised that a face didn't match someone?

"OI! Hoggin' the princess, are ya?" that was Will, swinging down to perch precariously on the bannister next to Laurence, who just settled back into a sleepy doze, putting is forearm over his eyes.

"Good afternoon, Will." Belle said with a smile. "I'm not a princess. I'm just Belle."

"Just Belle?" his one eye was an interesting shade of grey and blue, not one more than the other. He wiggled his brows, revealing all his crooked teeth in a bright grin that made her return it.

"Yes, just Belle." she teased.

He was a thin boy, barely a man, with a floppy knotted mess of blonde on his head, cut only by the straps of his eye patch. He had a thin layer of pale fuzz over his jaw that he wore with enough distinctive pride to let her know he was cultivating the facial hair, and reached out to tickle his chin.

"Suits you." she said, when he swung away, confused by the touch.

"Really?" his voice pitched, before he cleared it, colour bursting on his cheeks. "I mean- yeah, I know, pretty lady."

Laurence chuckled in his unrestrained boom. Will swiped past and snatched the bandanna from his head, continuing to swing on to a higher perch. The medic moved his arm away to send him a mildly annoyed look, one Belle would not ever want to be on the receiving end of.

"What's he done now?" the thunk of a wooden leg alerted Belle to who asked the question. She felt oddly about calling him Peg-Leg, so internally she stuck to Peggy. "He annoyin' you, lady Belle?"

"Not me." she said with a smile.

"I'll catch 'im." Dunce said with a yellow stained grin, bounding up the banister and nearly following through on the threat.

"Are they always like this?" Belle ducked as Will came swinging past, Dunce rounding around to cut him off on higher territory.

"Will's only young, Dunce's young in the head. So, yeah." Peggy snorted, taking a seat on her vacated barrel. "S'why I'm stuck with him all the time."

"It has nothing to do, of course, with how they're madly in love with each other." Smith supplied, earning a growled cuss from Pete. "Yeah, yeah, you don't even bother denying it, any more."

Peg-Leg pulled the wooden appendage up onto the opposing thigh, rubbing the joint with frustrated fingers. Laurence caught him, and began to ask him questions pertaining to the nature of it, asking if he'd been using his ointments as he'd earlier instructed.

"They are, you know, in love." Smith continued more quietly to her. He himself was tall - not taller than Laurence but still taller than any man she'd ever seen - and built thin, with a certain layer of bulk but a little bit of fat on him, too. "They're never apart. They sleep together, even, get all tangled up in arms 'n' legs. Well, most legs, one stump."

"Oh." she nodded, unsure of what it was he was trying to tell her.

"Came across 'em in a bar off Tortuga way. They said they was looking for a ship to take 'em cross the sea, and Captain gave them the usual speel - gotta pull your own weight, don't get in the way of progress, you steal anything and he'll show you how hard it is to live with one hand - that kind of thing." A part of Belle had the feeling he was trying to give her the same speech.

She nodded him along, her eyes momentarily dragged to the saga that was the teenager and the chasing man.

"Dunce has always been that - a dunce - but he listens to Peg, and he's got a lot of energy. As you can see." he nodded to Dunce, who - now joined by Kong - was chasing the raspberry blowing boy around on foot while he was in the air with the blue bandanna hanging from his toes.

Kong took about three seconds to flip and climb a vertical wall, tackling the teen in midair, snatching the bandanna from his foot before twisting and landing in a cat-like crouch. He handed it back to Laurence, who pinched it between his thumb and forefinger, looking amused.

"Lady." he bowed.

"You're a king, Kong!" Dunce clapped his back. "Innit he a king, Peg? Genius."

"He's fast," Will said with a cheeky grin. "He's not a king. I'm a king."

"Wouldn't let the captain hear you say that," Smee piped up, taking his red beanie away to bow to the noble. "My lady."

"Good sir." she likewise bowed to him, mostly to tease, partially from habit. "Though you don't have to be so formal with me, Smee."

"Oh!" he twisted his beanie, eyes twinkling. "You remembered my name!"

"Of course I did!" she looked up to Will, shielding her eyes from the sun. "Why is everyone so surprised about that?"

"You're a noble." Smith shrugged, and leaned his arms on the bannister. "We're nothin' but lowly pirates."

"Hardly." she chided, then blushed as they all looked at her. "You're people, and you've done nothing to hurt me. You've all been completely pleasant, and there's no real reason why I should forget your names. That's just rude."

"Speakin' of names you shouldn't forget." Smith muttered, his eyes flicking to four certain pirates.

"That's Adam."

He had a large ring with a griffon intricately stamped in the centre, large nosed and blue eyed. There was an unpleasent twist about his mouth, as though the wind had changed direction when he'd pulled a face. His bottom lip was upset, somehow, thicker on one side than the other, barely hidden behind fine blonde beard. He was working the sails with two of the other men that Belle had committed to memory as ones to be avoided.

"That's Tom."

He was the thinnest, with greasy hair styled upwards in a gravity defying wave. He had a neatly, if not obsessively compulsively trimmed moustache, fixed at the ends into neat, even curls. His chin was hidden beneath a sharp point of beard, ink black and oiled. He was hunched over a table with Killian and Chase, measuring leuges and directing their route upon a well preserved map. He was curling the tip of his forefinger around his moustache curls like a real villain.

"That's Micheal."

The man was dashingly good looking, dark haired and eyed, muscles all over, with arms full of dragon and koi fish tattoos. He was before Jon, shirtless, revealing a well toned torso, proudly displaying years of ink upon his body.

Belle was fascinated by tattoos. It was something she could never do, even if she got up enough nerve to make a decision on what to get, being a noble.

"That's Jon."

Who had a finely decorated knife thrower's belt, wide shoulders boasting strength and years of throwing precision. He was scowling and silent in comparison to the men before and behind him, who were talking over him as they hoisted a large sail. He seemed fit, with a gut enough to prompt speedily challenged, as though he could be outrun, but not if one were caught to begin with. He looked up sharply, a fury burning in his black eyes like one Belle had never seen before.

She averted her gaze to the Captain, who sent her a side long smirk and a wink that made her fluster, and turn her back to the lot of them.

"Don't mind Hook," Smith said dryly. "He'll try and charm your garters off of you all the time you're here."

"Woah, what's all this talk of garters and charming?" said a brightly coloured voice. It was Phil, who looked dull and as though he belonged in a castle library somewhere - and Belle would know the type. He had thinning fair hair and wrinkles from age, a little pot belly but a wickedness in his eyes. "Should I come back later?"

"Oh, no." she smiled at the significantly unremarkable man. "Phil, right? You're a poet?"

"Don't you know it." he said with a low chuckle.

Dunce snickered loudly, though Kong rolled his eyes.

"That's the seventy-third time he's used that joke." the man said with a painful sounding sigh. "He's full of bad jokes. Good stories, though."

"Thank you." he bowed from the waist politely. "Phil Coulson, at my lady's service."

"You've clearly seen a day at court." she noted.

"Or two." he lifted. "I did do work for his royal highness Uther Pendragon, until he thought me a sorcerer and had me sentenced to death. I met Kong and Smith down in the dungeons, and spun an amusing enough tale for them to take me when our dear Captain came and broke them free. It's nearly stupid, how easy jails are to escape, given you have the right man for the job."

"Something that can be applied to any walk of life." Laurence said in his philosophical way, rising to his feet. "Lunch bell is ringing. Would you like to sit with me, Belle?"

"I would love to." she said sincerely, and just about hugged him round the neck, stopped only because there would be no universe in which she could reach.

* * *

"You know, you've never actually introduced yourself." she prompted the Captain after lunch.

"And you've never actually answered my question in regards to where I'm dropping you off." he raised his eyes from the cards in his hands, watching her peer at the numbers and pictures. "Killian Jones, if it please the lady." he said, prompting a chuckle here or there.

Laurence, who had been accompanying her through the afternoon, pulled her up a barrel and she thanked him, taking her seat on it and peering at the Captain's cards. The pot was with bronze pieces, leftover change, a single cigar from Smith, with a glass bead and a pair of red drop earrings. Chase, the Captain's unofficial, long-time first man, bowed his head to her respectfully.

"Lady Belle."

"Please, just Belle." she said. "How are you, Chase?"

"Fine, thank you." he smiled, grey eyes blankly on her face. He had a top of neat, curled red hair, a freckled face, and was well dressed, considering his profession. "Shall I deal you in next round?"

"What is this game?"

"Poker." Phil offered, tuning his guitar. His cards were in a neat stack, face down, as he tended the instrument. "Probably unlike any game you've ever played, my dear lady. Not very fun, unless you're winning. Which I am."

"Un-bloody-likely." Killian muttered, cocking a brow in his direction. "You've got the luck of a black cat, wordsmith."

"Of course, Captain." the man replied, with a serene smile.

Smith was beginning to explain the general outline of the rules to Belle as Killian decided to go for broke and throw in his last two pieces of bronze, sitting back in his chair. Belle nodded along, though most of the game flew over her head - they were playing to win bits of change from each other, she didn't see the fun in a game of chance.

"Here's to looking your way, gents." Smith said, throwing down his hand, revealing a fistful of picture cards. "Full house."

"Out." Chase put down his cards, collected his money, and walked away.

"Son of a bitch." Kong just collected the deck and started to shuffle his cards through the mix. "That's it, I am out. I can't afford to- Oi!" he shot at Killian, who now had five bronze coins in front of him, where seconds ago he had none.

"Prove it." the captain dared with a grin.

"Now you've gone and spoilt all the fun!" Phil mused. "Wherever will we win all our money from now?"

Belle took a little while to catch up on what had happened. When she did, she gave Killian a mothering look - a, '_give your brother back his pieces of bronze_', look - though he did nothing to reply but cock both brows at her, as if to say: '_don't know if you're aware, but I am a pirate_'.

"Captain's rules." Phil mused at her. "If you don't catch 'em, you don't keep 'em."

"But he caught him." Belle was confused, turning to Killian, who was piling the money in a neat stack. "He knows you took them. Where else would you have gotten those coins?"

"Perhaps I had more in my pocket?"

"But you didn't."

"Perhaps I kept it hidden in my sleeve." he set his elbows on the table, cocking a brow at her. SHe wasn't understanding that what he said went - they were pirates, and stealing was in their nature. "If you can't prove it, don't call it out. Captain's rules."

"What if I do call it out?" she said, lowering her voice, looking positively mischievous as she leaned forward, her dress very snug, very low, on her breast. He wetted his lips and strived to maintain eye contact, however the rest of his men didn't bother, they just let out low whistles and dangerous '_ooooh'_s.

"Certain death." he said rather frankly, leaning his forearms on the table.

"Seems a little harsh."

"Well, it isn't certain death, but you do come to blows for whatever has been stolen. First to hit the floor with his back loses, and most times that's because he's been cut at the throat. Perchance you do chose to duel me, lady Belle, you should know I don't lose."

"I don't think you'd kill me, Captain." she said, and fluttered her lashes.

"Oh?"

"No. I don't think you could."

"You should think again, love." they were getting closer and closer. "Perhaps on your back is where I'd most like you."

"Perhaps that's exactly where I'd let you land me." Was her instant, stirring reply. Her voice kept on- _purrin_g, at him, dropping in tone and volume so he really had no choice but to lean in, to better hear her. She was all pouty lips, innocent eyes. What game did she think she was-?

"Although, you are quite right." she sat back abruptly, got to her feet. "I can't say I know you all that well, given the majority of the time we've spent together involved you being unconscious. You could very well kill me. Until then, however, take this, Kong." she lifted a fist, dropping five bronze bits into his awaiting hands.

"A contribution, for the game. I'd hate for you to have your fun spoilt." she curtsied and walked away with her nose in the air and a little pleased grin on her mouth.

Killian cocked his head, confused, and sat back in his chair, only to find that his coins were gone.

"Oi!" he said, but she'd already cut him off with a loud giggle and: "Prove it!"

Phil was the first to lose his composure, followed quickly by Smith and Laurence. Kong just looked at his handful of coins, the look on Killian's face, to his coins again, a wide grin spreading on his mouth. The captain was confused - did she just-? - but the men cheered and stomped loud enough for the sound to carry across the whole ship within seconds.

And within minutes, how the noble woman who stole from the pirate Captain was doing the rounds on his ship.

And his ego.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks to **Witch-of-the-Forest** & **Kendra Leuhr** who've sent me praise when I was nervous that I was going to get hate on this. It's very reassuring. :)

Aude

xx

* * *

Kong greeted her with flowers and dark, sparkling eyes. She gasped, smiled wide, and took them, admiring the prettily arranged petals. There's were tiny white bulbs littered through out, tall stalks of a pale lilac, and yellow daisies as the main part.

"These are beautiful, Kong!"

"Only the best for our resident noble." he swept into a theatrical bow. "I arranged them myself. Learned the trade in the ports of Oz."

"Where did you get them?" she inhaled the scent - it was like warm toast, melted butter. Her mouth watered.

"Captain sent me, Chase 'n' Tom out on a recon. We needed new charts. They're wild flowers."

"They're lovely." she thanked him, again, and he preened under her praise, while Will swung down and made himself a nuisance to get equal attention.

"Get the charts?" Killian cocked a brow at Chase, who had them tucked under his arm in a business like way."

"Would I have come back without them?" he spread a select one over a table and weighted it down. "Now, here's the one that winds through Blind Man's Bluff to Mermaidia. I would suggest we go directly between the territories -"

"Chase." Killian put his hook and his palm on the table, eyebrows cocked. "You've got a problem."

"Of course I do. You're not going to heed my advice and take us straight past Mermaidia, _again_-"

"Not that kind of problem. You've been sulking since the whore houses. I've known you nearly my entire pirate life, man, speak up. Did Saucy Sandra not please you?" at the redhead's scoffing he guessed the mood he was in had nothing to do with any whores. "Come on. I can't stand that look on your face."

"As opposed to every other look on my face?" he dead panned, instantly droll.

Killian groaned, rubbed his eyes.

"Why, did I keep you around for so long?"

"Because someone here has to talk sense, Jones. There are too many people here willing to follow you into blind adventure."

"Adventure is not typically about planning and constructing every step of the way."

"Guts for glory," Chase rolled his eyes.

"Guts for glory!" someone heard, and the rest of the men took up the cheer. Belle was bewildered by the shouting, and the cheer that went up with it. Someone leaned down to explain that it was something of a war cry, something to get behind, to drive their actions. If you had no guts, you got no glory.

Chase remained flat.

"You keep me around because I keep you alive."

"And bored."

"Get rid of me, then." the man challenged, taking himself away from the map. "Actually, never mind, I'll do it myself." and he marched straight to the edge of the ship, apparently going to pin-drop into the water before Killian called him back, laughing.

The pirate sighed, actually considering the drop, before sulking back to the Captain, who slung a friendly hook around his shoulders.

"You've yet to hand me any of your advise on my plans."

"I told you. Steer clear of Mermaidia."

"The _other,_ plans." he glanced toward the noble, still flattered by her wildflowers and being battled over by not just two, but three squabbling pirates. Aladin had charmed her with Abu in his little hat and vest, so she wasn't really paying attention to anything but the monkey who was now eating her flowers.

Killian surveyed the man under his arm, the way he'd instantly gone still, then tried to forcefully lose his grip, turning back to the maps.

"What?"

"I think you're daft, Jones." the man said flatly. "You're a ladykiller, it's the one thing that's sure about you. And you've bedded a good three princesses in your time-"

"Four."

"She doesn't count, and you know it." the man's grey eyes hit him like miniature cannons. Thankfully, he was used to having Chase shoot him. "This one is different. You're not in her world, in perfume and nice clothes, you're not able to romanticize the pirate life. All brine and sweat and rope burn, all the sea sickness and cold food, leather and blistered feet. She's in our world, now."

"Which should really make it all the easier." he said cheerfully. "I just play my cards as I already have them and she'll come running. I've sworn her protection and given her comfort and she's going to love me. She really doesn't have a chance. It's quite cruel, actually."

"Then why do you need me to get involved?" he asked flatly. "If you're so damn sure of your wooing capabilities?"

"Because love is messy." he wrinkled his nose, wiggled his fingers, as if to shoo the notion away. "I don't want to have to deal with the jealousy and the effort that comes with that."

"You didn't seem to mind the first time around." Chase said lowly, though Killian heard him.

"My love is the sea. She's quiet and volatile and that's just how I like to ride my woman." he fixed a stare on the redhead's face. "You don't like having a woman on board."

Chase said nothing, he just returned his attentions to the map in front of him.

"Chase. Come now, think about it. If you just be your charming, to-the-point self I'm sure she'll tell you something of the crocodile. You're a good looking man, Homer Chase-"

"Oi," the man said sharply, looking around like a stunned meerkat. "Watch yourself, _Killian Shae _Jones!"

"Right-o, that's enough of that." the Captain laughed, catching his friend's eye."She might not trust me, yet, but there's no reason she shoudln't trust you."

"I don't want to get involved with this. Women are unpredictable creatures."

"Just because you can't factor in specific numbers doesn't mean you can't strum them like guitars."

"I hate music."

"That's why I strum." he made a very crude hand gesture, one of which made the red head's cheek tinge pink. "Look, honestly. She's a novelty. The men'll get over her soon enough, and she'll be alone. That's when I come in - literally, or figuratively."

"You're a vile bastard." the redhead murmured, and folded his arms across his chest. "I don't like this, Jones. I don't like having her around. I have the distinct impression we are heading straight for another-... Well, if you must know, another Milah."

He nodded to the woman, who had coaxed the monkey to her shoulder. She was fiddling the flowers into a chain whilst holding a conversation with Aladin, Will and Kong in turn, having somehow stopped them fighting.

"You're telling me you, of all people, don't see the Milah in her?"

"Milah was her own woman." Killian said darkly. "No one is ever like Milah."

"The way she's charming them, Jones. She's speaking their language. She's unafraid of them. And she is quite pretty." all things Milah had done and been. He shook a finger in the Captain's face. "You mark me, these men are more romantic than you estimate. They're going to like her too much, and your plan will go to shit."

"I'll get what I need out of her."

"Don't start sulking because you're thinking of Milah."

"I'm always, thinking of Milah." he met the grey eyed stare without blinking. "She drives everything I do. She's always in me."

"And that's why this isn't going to work, Jones." the redhead said, quietly now. "I may not know how to, _strum_, a woman, but as far as I'm concerned - they are observant creatures, too. She's going to know that your attentions aren't whole."

"She'll either fall for me and wound him thusly, or she'll tell me, or you, or Phil what I need to hear to have him dead. Either way, I win. There is no losing."

"What about if you just killed her?" Chase said, lifting his eyes from the map. "You told me you think he fancies her."

"Yeah, and, if he does, I'll steal her heart. That'll hurt him more. Killing her won't do my cause any good - it's not as though the crocodile is capable of love. And unless it is love, he won't understand. The pain won't be as great." he glanced at the woman, who was laughing at Dunce and Will flying around the deck, again. "You know it's not about her."

"No, of course not. It's about you."

Killian just drew a dramatic red line across the map, indicating they were to sail directly for Mermaidia, both sails only half drawn for a slower speed.


	7. Chapter 7

It took him three weeks for Killian to realize that there was, in fact, a problem with the noble woman on his ship.

Two problems, actually, but they were both _her._

The first problem with this woman was that there really was no problem with her at all; she fit in as though she'd been a pirate lass her entire life.

Will was teaching her the ropes in the most literal sense - showing her knots and how to swing on them, which Killian had indulged in after one too many drinks and a boring day of easy sailing. She and Will had flown over the deck, high off the ground, her skirts tucked between her legs in the name of decency.

Dunce and Peg-Leg had told her all about the tide and how the moon manipulated it, how to spot a riptide, the difference between dolphin, shark, and mermaid - the way they navigated by the stars, how to tell true north with nothing but her wits. She learned it all eagerly, picking up the tricks of their trade with apparent, charming ease.

Smith had taken to teaching her how to pick locks when Killian drew the line. If he needed to keep her subdued he would need to know that he wouldn't need to keep an eye on her. The same went for Laurence when he decided to teach her hand to hand combat - and she nearly toppled over board in her dress.

Though he was acutely aware of the fact that she was continuing to learn behind his back, his men conspiring against him for the pretty lady and her beguiling smile.

The moment he realized the problem of her slotting in was when she tried her hand at poker, lost every round, but continued to have a healthy amount of coins under her arms. And to prove a point to himself, to make sure it wasn't just accepting handouts from the others, he went to sneak a few coins from her.

She batted his hand away without having to look at him.

"Captain's rules." she said with a sweet smile, rounded up her money to donate it between Will, Kong and Smee, and retired to bed.

The second problem with the woman was that she didn't actually seem to be attracted to him, in any sense of the word. When he left a seat open on his side she gravitated to Smith or Dunce - when they played cards she was always donating money to Smee. To Smee, of all people! And she didn't look at him when he was flexing, nor when he was playing the part of all-feared pirate Captain - which usually got the ladies all aflutter.

A problem, indeed.

And the problem seemed to be coming to see him.

"Good morning, Captain Jones."

As of late, that particular title from her mouth had sounded oddly sinful.

"Good morning, lady Belle." she was glowing, her hair all pretty and curly. It'd been a long three weeks since a quick lay behind the cabins, and her fitting so well into his crew had been... _hard_, on him.

"I was talking to a few of the men, last night," she said lightly, though she was staring unthinkingly at his face. "And, we noticed that we're perhaps, veering slightly off course."

He gave her his full attention, then, though his hook remained on the wheel of the ship. His eyes went over the easiness in her features, the looseness in her shoulders - how, at ease, she was, in that moment. She looked like something out of a hallucination he'd had once, not a real flesh and blood woman.

He whistled for someone to take the wheel and took her under the arm.

"Come with me." he said casually, and lead her away, down the stairs like a real gentleman and everything. He nodded to his quarters, and waited for her to fish the key out of her boot. "Interesting place to keep a key." he noted.

"A safe place." she smiled up at him, and slid it in the lock. "What's wrong?"

He waited until after she'd invited him in - it was so good to be in his own room again, but odd to feel he needed permission to cross the boundary of the door. He kicked his seat into position and swung back on it, tipping it up on hind legs, keeping practiced balance. His hook was strategically hidden under one crossed arm, of which he rubbed his chin with.

"I was just wondering why you were lying to me." he said finally, noting how nervous she suddenly seemed.

She looked flustered, twisting the key between her hands.

"I-... I just thought it'd be easier to ask if-... If it sounded like the men wanted to know too, not just... just me." she muttered, looking all the world like she'd just killed a man and had blamed it on the crew.

"You don't go so shy 'round Will." he said shortly. "Nor Smith. Not even Aladin and that stupid monkey. So why do you think you have to lie to me?"

"I just did." she said easily, if a little guiltily. "How could you even tell?"

"You've got a face like an open book." he announced flatly.

"And you told me once you didn't read anything that wasn't a map." she accused, then settled, unsure of where her anger had come from. She'd started to apologise when he waved it away, slamming his chair onto all fours.

"You undermine me, Belle." was how he opened the conversation, sounding rightly annoyed. "First it was cute. A few coins here and there in poker, it was nearly sweet of you to try. But then you go and you learn all these things from my crew behind my back as though I don't know - don't look so shocked, lass, I've got eyes and ears every where, it's my ship."

He was then annoyed by the fact she thought she'd gotten away with it.

"Then you have the cheek to actually implement these tricks. And now you're lying to me and using my crew as an alibi." he got up, which made her hastily retreat to a corner. "Don't be stupid, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm giving you fair warning."

"Fair warning for what, exactly?" she said it with a bright hot streak of bravery, but shut her mouth as he pulled open a draw and dug around in it. He found what he was looking for, and went over to her, taking the key from her fingers and threading the black length of velvet through the design on the end.

"You seem so keen to learn, love." he said in a low somewhat dangerous voice. "Let me teach you something, then. How much do you know about mutiny?"

"I know what mutiny means. Contrary to what you seem to believe, I am not stupid." she snatched the key back from his hand. He put that hand on the wall over her shoulder, leaning imposingly, but not frighteningly, into her space.

"You know the land's definition, of mutiny." he kept his hook from her line of sight, tucked at the small of his back. He didn't want to scare her of him... just intimidate her, a little. "Allow me to educate you on what would happen, should the men pick up on these little forays into naughtiness, as you've done. They will think that my word means naught. They will think that small rules - even unspoken rules - will be broken and there will be no consequences. Not even I can break the rules, because though I created them, though I am the captain and the law, if I go back on my word once, they'll fall to pieces."

He took a pause, surveying the effect this conversation was having on her.

"There would be, at first, be small fights, almost gradual in their progression, then larger ones. Things will be taken that should not be taken. I will most likely be tossed over board, or at the very least locked in the bowels of my own ship with nothing but spiders for sustenance. Even if some stay loyal, they won't do it for long. And my word, the same word keeping you and your chastity safe, that will be nothing." he saw her jaw flex, teeth clenching together. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

She nodded once. He caught her jaw, smoothing his thumb over the twitching muscle.

"Belle." he said, quietly, gently now. "Do you understand?"

"Yes." she breathed, and something defiant flickered in her eyes. "I understand."

"I don't mean to frighten you." _Liar_. "But like I said. Fair warning."

"Of course." she said, stronger now.

He took his hand from her face, held his hook behind his back.

"Now. You noticed we're veering off course. We are, for safety reasons."

And to give him just a bit more time to woo her.

He took pause, gave her a small smile.

"Are you alright?"

She was clearly anything but - her breath was short and quick and her hands were pressed flat against the wall behind her, her teeth were gritted and lips in a thin line. She looked like a trapped animal, so he obliged in taking several steps away, to give her space to be let out of the trap.

"I'm fine." she said, and tied her key around her throat, tucking it into the front of her gown. "Just fine. Although I think I should probably tell you something. An answer, to your wondering why I'm behaving as I am."

He simply waited for her to continue.

"Randy Rhonda." she said simply, and let that sink into his brain. He furrowed his brow, going to his desk and taking a seat. He motioned for her to continue, and with arms folded under her bust (very distracting), she leaned back against the wall. "She told me to."

"And you always do as your told?"

"When one woman tells another that the only way she can guarantee her safety is to become 'one of the lads', yes, I do." she still looked angry, though, and he didn't understand why. "She took me aside and told me to pick up as many traits as I could, so I wouldn't have the wool pulled over my eyes. And even if I did, there would be nothing stopping me from pulling it right on back."

"Because you didn't trust I could keep you safe?" he made as though to be wounded by that thought. "Did you think I ran a ship of rapers and cutthroats?"

"Isn't that what you wanted me to think?" she now fixed him with a intelligent eyed stare. "By taking me to that first whore house, pointing out the men I should keep watch on? Wasn't it your intention?"

"To point out men you should keep watch on, exactly. Did I ever lead you to believe the same of everyone else?"

"I distinctly remember you mentioning that the crew wouldn't be tame or pleasant when the food was stale and the rum went dry." she uncrossed her arms, forcing herself to relax. "I don't want to argue with you."

"Why not?" he snorted. "Typical of a princess to deny such a challenge as a simple, heated conversation."

"I'm not a princess." she replied sharply, and put her hands to her hips. "And I'm not denying any 'challenge'."

"Princess." he trilled.

"Bully." she retorted, and narrowed her eyes on him. "You're picking a fight with me."

"I'm not, dear lady, I assure you."

"Consider me unassured." she met his stare and didn't blink until he laughed, breaking the tension. "What are you laughing at?"

"You say you don't wish to argue and yet to stand there at the door of my room and glare at me as though in challenge."

"It's my room, Captain Jones." she said coldly, which made his grin turn nasty. She yanked open the door and nodded him through. "And you can leave, now."

* * *

Belle was having... Feelings. All the feelings. And having so many feelings was creating but one gigantic emotional current in her chest - angry confusion. She was certain he'd lorded over her in the manner he had because he was purposely trying to scare her.

She didn't know why. But she knew when a man was trying to put her into a pretty little box out of his way, and the pirate captain had just done exactly that.

He could give her all the pretty words and ravishing smiles in the world, but he was still just a man, with an ego and an idea of what women should and shouldn't do. Clearly, she'd upstaged him at his own game, and he didn't like it.

Fancy threatening her maidenhead because he didn't like her making friends! What else was she supposed to do? Put on that little red dress and offer him a space in his own bed? He'd told her nothing - given her no jobs. He'd thought her stupid from the very beginning, of that he'd made abundantly clear.

Brutish, vicious, codfish of a man!

Belle didn't hate people. But she had an idea of how it could happen. Because even though he'd flirted with her endlessly - though carefully - he had a distance behind his eyes as if she would scamper away into hiding like a little frightened deer and never venture out if he used any thing more risqué than gentle praise and his commanding her protection from the others.

She had thought, at first, that he was just polite. That perhaps he was a good man, under all his make up and pretty buckles. But no - he really did flirt with her, it was just the most tragic sort of flirting in the world.

Unintentionally unsubtle.

Something was definitely going on. She could just tell, there was more to his story than freeing her from the Queen and then offer to take her home. He'd asked for no payment and he'd asked for no thanks. What kind of pirate was he, anyway?


	8. Chapter 8

Two days later, they ran into trouble of the boring kind.

Will had spotted reefs in a place they shouldn't have been, and Killian had weighed anchor to avoid damaging the hull so far away from land. Another two days later, they had charted a rough outline of the route through the reef, which had taken a full day of careful navigating with no sails to achieve.

Five days extra, on top of the two days the captain had decided they'd stay at Mermaidia Cove.

"So called, of course, because of the frequent mermaid sightings." Phil told her in a conspiritory whisper. "There's many a bard that have written of the creatures of this cove. The treasure and riches beyond their wildest dreams. No one who goes in ever comes out again."

"So where do the stories come from?" she asked with a smile, making Kong chortle.

"Women come out." Chase offered her, rubbing the thin red stubble that he had cultivated on his chin. "Mermaids won't hurt a woman unless that woman should give them cause."

"If I were to attack them, for example?"

The pirate nodded, fixing her with a blank stare.

"But you wouldn't attack anything, would you, lady Belle?"

"I don't have any need to." she was curious. Chase had barely said two words to her in weeks. She had the distinct impression that she made him uncomfortable, though she'd treated him the same as every one else, and they weren't anything like him.

"Women, children, and innocence." Kong said, ticking the things off his fingers as he listed them. "Those who don't commit no thievery, no murders, mean no harm, those typically honest and those who don't sail ships. But children they never hurt."

"We don't take chances on stories." Laurence reminded the significantly smaller man in a calm tenor. "Cap'ins already had problems with mermaids before. We keep a healthy distance. Some of us like our eyes just as they are."

"Some of us can't afford to lose another one." Will interjected, swinging merrily on his rope. "Last time I seen mermaids it was too close as was, lady. They're pretty, to be sure, but, they're scary, too. We'd got too close to the cove and someone said somethin' about nicking one of the princesses -"

"The pod 'roud here's got about nineteen of 'em."

"- and they attacked the bottom of the ship. Rolled and thrashed and tipped the Roger right on the side, knocking half the men loose into the water, damaging nearly everything - that's why the mast is saggy in the middle. We was lucky that they were happy with just that and left us be, elsewise we'd be all bones in the water, now."

"That's horrific." she said, but wasn't all that horrified. She was familiar with mermaid law.

"Hey Phil, tell her about the time Hook faced the mermaids when he was my age." Will prompted, moving so the rope he was laying on stretched along his back, nursing him like a hammock.

"Younger than Will is now, actually." the poet mused. "I'd say he hadn't even met his tenth birthday." he continued, nodding somberly at her mortified expression.

"Yes, he's always been this way inclined, all exciting forays into law breaking and swordplay. Ever since he was all bony elbows and knobbly knees with a smattering of freckles, he's been a pirate."

"Freckles!" she grinned at him. "You're teasing!"

"Swear." he lifted both hands, Laurence chuckled.

"Aye, Belle. Captain has freckles." he motioned to the bridge of his nose, the apples of his cheeks. "Somewhat worn away, blended out with the colour of him, but he has them."

"Tell me." she said, leaning her head on her hand, propped up on the rail over looking the water. The second Belle started to settle in the now familiar pose, the crew began to listen in. They coud recognise when Phil was spinning a story for her - they were usually his best ones. He, of course, would water the more horrific details down, aim it to her pallet and no one else's.

"He'd stowed away." he began in a ominous tone. "Hidden himself under a collection of cannon balls, arranged them around himself like a pyramid to keep from their eyes. He waited for two whole days until his hunger was so great, he tried to eat the sweet-scented rats that scurried past."

"Oh no, Phil!" she pulled a face, the illusions in the water abruptly disappearing. "Don't be horrible!"

"He didn't get any, dear lady, don't fret." he amended, though he was pleased with her reaction. "But he tried, is the point, his hunger was terrible. So he pushed the cannon balls aside and followed these fat, juicy rats-"

"Stop using edible descriptions when you talk of rats." she said, with a playful shove of his arm.

"He followed the rats, because they keep from salt water, see? They showed him the way to the food supplies, where he got a decent meal and some bits and pieces. He followed them around the ship for the better part of week. The men of the ship put down the missing foodgoods down to rats, but when there were clothes and knives gone missing too, they said a ghost had followed them to the sea."

Now the better part of the crew had gathered. Killian peered at him through the spokes of the wheel.

"So our young Captain followed these vermin about for the longest time, learning the ship and it's ins and outs. It so happened that he lost himself, one day, got locked in the cupboard by some devious little booby trap the chef had set to catch the sticky fingers in his kitchen. The rats, in case you were wondering, got away to safety, hid in holes big as your fist; but even if our captain was a skinny lad, he couldn't squeeze himself into one of those." he took a dramatic pause, staring out over the sun setting on the water.

"He was captured." he said darkly, as though she didn't know that he'd at least end up alive, out of this story and aside from a missing hand, quite safe and well-off. "Captured, strung up by the wrists in the dungeons. The lad hung in the dungeon for hours. He didn't make a sound, not to plead for his life or for his hands, not to beg for release or try and explain his -"

"You make me sound so noble." said Captain grinned, coming up to stand between the story teller and the avid reader. "No offence meant, of course."

"Of course." she agreed politely.

"I _was _strung up while they figured out what to do with me. Blackbeard's many things, but he knows a good pirate when he sees one. Figured I'd be useful, and sent me up to the crow's nest to keep an eye on things."

Belle gave Will a fond look, but the boy was already beaming at the captain, nearly blushing from the correlations in their stories.

"I did my job, saw the mermaids a few days later. He thought I'd had too much sun, tried to keep me under the deck, back with rats. I had other plans. This man, you understand, is still alive, still a great deal more powerful and feared than any pirate ever known. The man's insane, by regular standards, but he's never, ever been caught. I wanted to prove him wrong, because I could, and I'd probably be the first to do so."

"Because it was a challenge, and you couldn't help yourself, you mean." she corrected for him.

He looked at her with assessing eyes, as if trying to sense an issued challenge.

"Exactly." he nodded at her, nearly a mocking bow.

"So what did the boy decide to do?" Phil mused to the crowd.

"Guts for glory!" they bellowed, all perfectly in sync. Killian grinned, chuckling under his breath, stepped up next to the bard with a hook keeping him steady on a length of rope beside him.

"I took a bit of rope, a net, a thin sabre too big for my back, let alone my hands. I had full intentions of taking one dead, to drag her on the ship and collect my praises. When I swam out to the cove, however, all my supplies were taken."

"They took his clothes, too." Will chirped with a cracking laugh, swinging up out of reach as the Captain shot him a dirty, amused look.

"Shut up, Willhelm."

Belle cocked her head.

"Did they take your clothes?"

"Yes." and he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"Do you know why?" Because she did.

"Mermaids don't wear clothes -" he started off with a roll of his eyes, as though what he was imparting were common knowledge. "-They find the craftsmanship fascinating. They take clothes from every human who ventures into their waters, it's the first thing they do when they get you in their territory."

"So there he was." Phil picked up. "Not a day over ten and naked as a babe, treading water too deep for him and unable to find purchase on any of the rocks either side of him. It was dark - the moon shifted behind a cloud, he'd unwittingly wadded too far into the cave, and he was left in pitch black, in silence, but for the sound of his own desperate wheezing, and the sounds of his struggles bouncing off the walls."

"Why was I wheezing?"

"Because it adds ambiance."

"You make me sound like I smoked a pipe from birth." he scoffed. "I wasn't wheezing."

"He was breathing heavy. All the exercise, the fear, coiling low around his heart..."

"I wasn't scared. I was annoyed." he turned a look down onto Belle. "I had thought, as boys tend to do, that the men were pulling a trick on me. That they'd hid the moon and taken my clothes and were trying to scare me."

How exactly he thought a bunch of pirates had hidden the moon was never revealed. Belle had to remind herself that at the time, he was a little boy.

"So he told them. As loud as he could, shouted it out to the roof: _"I'm not afraid of you_," he says, and starts to sink under the water, as his legs and arms seize in cramps most fatal. "_I'm not afraid of anything!" _he says, and goes under." Phil fixed the man with a cocked brow, as if waiting for him to make his corrections.

"That part is true. Continue."

Phil near rolled his eyes.

"He was underwater when the cove lit up around him. An eerie blue, like moonlight, but from underneath him, and much, much closer. He was running low on air, but he saw a dark enough shape to give him pause, to try and struggle to the air with renewed vigour, certain he was to meet his maker in the form of a shark's supper, which is not the way he wanted to die. There was music in his ears and he thought it was angels welcoming him into heaven. So naturally, his feet hit the floor and he hot up to take a big breath, scrambling more frantically on the rocks, tearing shreds into his hands, losing fingernails imbedded in the rocks."

Belle winced at the description.

"The first mermaid to help was a young girl, a shock of bright red hair, tiny little thing, no more than a child of his own age. She helped him up to a ledge, pushed him up to safety before pulling herself up after him. She was so enamoured by our dear captain, she was just shocked, staring. He was much the same - part of him didn't really expect to find a mermaid."

"What did she do?" one of the men asked.

Belle took a moment to appreciate the effect Phil and his stories had on people - Dunce was leaning against Peggy's back, twirling his hair around his finger, while Peg-Leg allowed it, staring without seeing over the ocean. Will was lulled into an easy silence, and Kong had folded his legs into a complex position on the floor, watching Phil for more of this story. Smith caught her eye and winked, clearly studying those around him too. She poked out her tongue and he pretended to be appalled at the behaviour.

"With thin, sharp tipped fingers, she reached out, poked his knee. He was still catching his breath, but he did the same, touching the joint in her tail where it equalled to his leg. She laughed, and he asked her what was funny. She replied: "_It tickles_!" and dived head first, back into the water. He scrambled to the edge, wanting her to stay, having more than a hundred questions wrestling in his head. But her father, the king, who'd heard him and his defiance was where the girl had dove, and he didn't allow the boy to further question the girl. Fathers are the same with their daughters in every race."

Belle had to giggle about that, hiding it behind her hand.

"The lad himself was allowed help back to his ship, eased up onto the hull while invisible. The charm breaks when clothes are donned, so the mermaids know enough about us to know that nudity is uncomfortable for us, so they allow us the courtesy. He was given a small pearl to take back to Blackbeard for proof of where he'd been - so he didn't get beaten, he claimed. But the proof was the problem. Blackbeard then turned around and culled off about forty of the mermaids and men. The man wields excellent magic - so they had no hope to fend him away, only to escape by swimming."

"She came back, though." Killian told them. "That girl. I saw her hair and climbed down to meet her. She was a shy girl, but curious, I told her many things about my land and parted a fork from the kitchen in return for the pearl. She was thrilled. More thrilled by what I next imparted with her, which I called a goodbye between a human male and a human female, and that was certainly more pleasant, and certainly... A little more _oral_."

There was an unproar of laugher, even from the men she'd named friends.

"That's a terrible thing to do to a girl." Belle was nearly mortified, but hardly surprised. "You sound so proud of that."

"I am."

"I doubt you even know what to do with it, at that stage," Belle continued in disbelief. "If you were barely ten years old. I'm calling you out. You're making that up."

He shrugged.

"I started early. You know, it just goes to show, that to any _normal_ species attracted to a man, I am irresistible." And now he was hinting that she didn't like men. Rude. "You pull such attractive faces when you're mortified with me. We wouldn't care, you know, if your preferences were otherwise inclined. Though a few of the men may try and change your mind."

There was another round of hearty laughter, making her cringe away from the innuendo. She hunched up her shoulders, turned to leave when he barked his own laugh, catching her skirt on his hook.

"What's the matter, love?" he cooed, perfectly gentlemanly, if one ignored holding her back against her will and the words he was designing only to humiliate her. "Can't take a dose of honesty?"

Belle was usually so forgiving. But he just pushed every button she had. She knew his dropping these ideas in front of the men was purely to re-establish some of his imagined slights; she'd embarrassed him in front of them, so he'd return the favour.

With every ounce of cool she plucked away his hook and returned with: "Even if I did fancy a woman, Hook, you wear enough makeup to pass that standard."

There was a shocked intake of air on his part, before he was drowned out by catcalls and laughter.

"Why don't you just skip away to your room, then?" he retorted sharply enough to make her recoil, before she smiled sweetly at him.

"Can't take a dose of honesty, Captain?" she said in a perfect mimic of his accented drawl, before retreating and slamming the door hard enough to shake the hinges.


	9. Chapter 9

She missed the mermaids, isolated in her cabin while the crew 'ooh'd and 'arrgh'd.

She ventured out at night for food, because there was no conceivably way she could go when she knew that Captain SassyPants would be out there, in his terrible mood. She didn't want to deal with him when she was as frustrated, either, because everything he'd say to her would be an attack and she was of perfectly sound mind to attack back.

She'd dozed lightly in the hours she was alone, so she was mostly unconscious when there was a knock at her door.

"Belle," Laurence had called, his being the gentle tapping at her door. "You need to eat something. I brought you dinner."

"Get out of it, medic." said the Captain in his cold drawl. "She doesn't come out, she doesn't get fed."

"It's not good for her to starve. She's thin enough as is." he replied in a slow, considering manner. "Perhaps if I just leave it-?"

"No. Take the plate back below and store it there. Let her posse know she isn't to be brought a single crumb." there was a mild pause. "Don't look at me like that. I haven't locked her in. She's done that to herself. On your way."

There was another pause and Belle heard the massive weight rumbling away from her door. She sat up, glaring as though the Captain could feel it through the door, flinching when he slammed a fist against it.

"You hear me, princess? You don't come out, you don't get fed."

"I'm not a princess!" she hissed, and rolled herself over, burying her head under a pillow to muffle his obnoxious laughter from her senses.

So there she was, quiet as a mouse.

A few men smiled or sleepily waved her on as she broached the deck in nothing but bare feet and her pale blue dress - whch almost looked ghostly, in the moonlight. She tiptoed down the stairs, watching the hammocks swing in tandem, seeing Laurence's hammock brushed the floor with his size. Smith, beside him, was on a middle hammock, and his boot dragged along the floor with the ebb and flow of the ocean.

She noticed Kong in a impossibly small ball, Smee with his beanie pulled over his eyes, snoring loudly, at random points. Dunce had his head on Peggy's chest, his thick arms about the elder man's waist, while the cripple in question ran his fingers carefully over his hair, detangling it. They were on the floor on some hay, which should've looked dismal and uncomfortable except it didn't. The smile on Peg-Leg's face was an estimate of how comfortable he actually was.

Aladin was also on the floor, though he looked like he was at perfect ease there, sleeping on his bunched up vest. The monkey was curled up on his belly, but when she met his eyes he jumped up. Abu swung over to her, landing on her shoulder, and claiming a careful fistful of her hair. He chattered a little, but hushed under her finger and looked around, as though suspicious. His tail wound over the back of her neck and he settled, making wild gestures to their one-handed Captain.

He was near the front, wedged between sailors in a middle bunk, his handicapped arm over his eyes, his foot bopping aimlessly, as though there were music in his mind. His hand was drumming a slow beat over his heart, lazy in it's manner, in a nice coordinated rhythm with the rise and fall of his chest.

Phil rose, looking amused at how she jumped and pressed a hand over her heart - Abu hid behind her skull. He pointed at her, made a sign for: "OK?"

She shook her head, pouting comically, rubbing her belly. Abu peered out from behind her, and did the same thing, patting his significantly hairier belly.

He smiled, lifting from his hammock and stepping down on a fat man who didn't so much as stir. He took her hand and nodded, leading her down the last few steps. He showed her to the kitchen, turning carefully between sleeping bodies. She kept glancing back at the Captain, more nervous for him to shift than anyone else, while Abu kept his balance, making low chatting noises into her ear.

When the door was eased closed behind them, Phil spoke, quietly still.

"He told us we weren't allowed to bring you anything. Had to explain to Dunce why he couldn't check that you were alright."

"I would've been grateful for his distraction." she murmured, going to the leftovers and allowing Abu to swing down to the grapes and stole a few. "What did you tell him, exactly?"

Phil snickered.

"That we had to let you brood the angry out, or you'd go sour as lemons. He accused us of lying when Cap stomped around as he was."

"Yes, well..." she broke bread with him and watched the cheeky monkey roll onto his back and feed himself grapes like royalty. She ate with more thoughtful chews. "He was trying to wound my pride." she felt the need to defend herself to at least one person.

"And...?" he prompted. She blinked at him innocently until his brows came down. "My dear lady. I am a bard and a man of the court. You cannot tell me that was all that prompted you two to a war of carefully constructed words."

"Hardly a war." she said in a mild defence. "More... A slight battle."

"Of course. Ladies don't go to war." he considered the look on her face. "And you're not a lady, when you're on this ship. So tell me, what happened?"

"I just-... He thought I'd be unable to defend herself from a big bad Hook. And I wanted to prove him wrong."

Phil just chuckled.

"At least you know where to twist the knife." he got up and patted her shoulder. Abu skipped up to bat his hand away, his tail stiff as a board. "Is it your lot in life to make everyone fall in love with you?" he mused.

She giggled.

"I hope not."

"Like the crocodile?" he watched her face, the way she went soft and sad. "Don't think I can't sense a good tale a mile off. If you ever wanted to impart it with me..."

"You wouldn't be able to do much with it. It's a romance, and a tragedy. And it has yet to come to any kind of satisfying conclusion."

The bard just waited for her, reaching out to rub the monkey's head. Abu claimed Belle's shoulder and allowed himself to be petted, but still stole a few more grapes and chomped down on them while Belle thought for her words.

"I believe love is layered." she started softly. "Love is, something to be uncovered. A mystery. And Rum was an enigma in a mystery. He was nice to me. Asked me questions about myself, talked to me as an equal, even though I was working for him, it never felt like that. I was never frightened of him, not once. He never gave me reason to be."

"I had heard that he was... unsightly."

"I don't see people's outsides, anymore." she smiled, tickled Abu's belly. "Rum is different. I could try and explain to you what made him... worth it..."

"Even worth being abandoned and called a slave?"

"Worth it all." she promised him, and Abu chattered quietly, grabbing her finger and putting it in his mouth. She laughed, making his tail swing around her wrist. She lifted him and nursed him to her chest like a fuzzy baby.

"You wouldn't wish for him to look any different? Even if you could, if he didn't know?"

"How Rum looks is just another part of who he is." she gazed at the pirate, remembering the shininess of his skin, his nimble fingers, the gentle, unsure touch of his kiss. "I would have him any way. But I wouldn't change him."

Phil nodded slowly, offering her a small smile.

"And you do love him."

"Yes." she said instantly. "With all I am."

He hummed, agreeable, something changing his demeanor. He seemed distant, somehow, as if realizing the depth of her love made him uncomfortable. He fixed a smile on his face, however, and offered his hand.

"May I escort the lady to the hull?"

"What lady?" she teased, though accepted his hand. "Thank you, for this."

"What's that?"

"Talking." she tilted her head. "Sharing bread with me."

"Of course. I'd share food with no one else. Well, perhaps your fuzzy little friend, there." he said in a near whisper as he opened the door a slice, peering through to see that the Captain had rolled onto his belly, and had his handless arm hanging loosely over one side. The problem was he was facing the stairs they had to climb, and if he opened his eyes he would see they were there.

Abu mock kissed her goodbye, skipped across several pirates, and tucked himself back under Aladin's chin.

Belle held onto Phil's hand and followed on the balls of her feet, seeing all her friends in their various sleep positions. Smith shifted as they passed, his toes pointing in a cat like stretch. They paused, watched him mumble something a little morbid, and shuffle deeper into his hammock, which protested the movement with creeky chains.

They shared a relieved look, until a hand shot out and caught Belle's ankle. She had a hand over her mouth and around her arms faster than she could make a noise - Phil was likewise detained. Tom and his ugly perfectly styled facial hair came out from the bottom bunk, his hand squeezing her ankle.

She struggled against the body holding her captive, but the tattoos told her it was Micheal, and she wasn't going anywhere.

Tom put a bony finger to his lips, nodding pointedly in Killian's direction. Her eyes were wide and she made a muffled whimper, but he shook the finger against his mouth, and narrowed his eyes. Phil was carried up the stairs by Jon, Micheal trailed behind. Adam turned her so Tom caught her legs, tucking each one under his arm so she couldn't kick anyone like she had been trying to do.

When they got on deck, she was dropped an inch above the floor.

"We don't mean no harm," Tom said silkily. "We were awake anyway, thought we'd give you a hand."

"We've had enough of a hand." Phil said tightly.

"Easy, poet." Adam said, his ugly scared mouth pulling into what could classify as a smile. "We was just helping."

"We're going to see the mermaids." Micheal said, matter-of-fact, adventure lighting his eyes. He was, unfortunately, really, really good looking, though Belle had told herself enough that looks did not make a man. "You didn't get to see them, before, and that's a shame. You should come with us."

"Yeah, come with us."

"Yes, come."

"Come."

She didn't really have a choice.


	10. Chapter 10

You guys rock. :3

Aude

xx

* * *

Belle had desperately wanted Phil to go with her but they stopped him as he made to get on the little boat.

"Not enough room." Jon growled at him, putting a hand to his knife.

_At least, _she thought desperately, _he can wake up the Captain and he can raise the alarm_.

She nodded, smiling politely, and Phil caught her gaze, almost reading the idea in her mind. He instantly took several steps back, nodding at her, wishing them a good journey. The boat had just lowered enough so that Belle couldn't see above the bannister when Adam rubbed his ring and said: "I seem to have forgotten my sword."

Before pulling himself up and away. There was a shuffle and dull thud, and then he was back, rubbing the ring, which drew Belle's eye to the fact that his knuckles were red, and he still didn't have a sword.

The boat ride was easy. The waters were still. She still wouldn't be able to swim it. She tried to see who had duties, who would notify someone that she was currently being casually kidnapped, but she was quickly realising they'd all be sound asleep, as was their nature.

They breached the entrance to the cove, a tight enough fit so that Jon crowded her on one said and Michel on the other, sliding his arm around her shoulders to pull her into his side. He smelt of cinnamon and something sweet - his eyes twinkled in the dark, going slowly over the pulse racing at her throat, to her chest, heaving with the effort of breathing.

They lit a torch and it was Tom's job to hold it aloft as they steered carefully around a particularly difficult corner. Belle was trying her hardest not to let her mind wander to why exactly she'd been warned away from all four of these men.

The boat caught between two rocks, and the torch lit up the expanse of cave. On the other side of a sharply diagonal island, Belle could see the mouth of another cave, this one going down into the water and out of sight.

"That's where the merfolk come out." Micheal told her. "We won't be safe for long. They're attracted to man-made light."

"Why am I here?" she asked calmly.

"You're here for the booty." Jon said flatly, motioning with his paddle to the middle of the island.

Belle had to squint in the dull light, but on top of the easily climbed island, there were pearls, and gold, and a golden tiara. She'd read about these before - mermaids set traps for thieves. The second she touched that stone she'd be considered a thief and she'd be attacked, killed without mercy. And they thought she didn't know.

"Go on, lass." Adam said in an eager whisper, slurred slightly by the bulge of his scarred mouth. "Go take the tiara. You're a girl - they won't hurt you."

"But the water is so deep..." she murmured, eyeing it.

"No, it's just dark." Jon stabbed the paddle in nearly all the way, showing her how it thunked when it hit the bottom. "You can push off the ground. You'll be fine."

"I don't-"

"Think how proud the captain'll be when she comes back with that." Tom near trilled. "E'rry pirate wants mermaid booty. Both kinds o' booty."

"You won't be needing this." Adam grabbed the key from around her neck and yanked it loose.

"In you go." Jon grunted, lifting under the arms like she weighed no more than a small girl. She was unceremoniously dropped with a splash into the water, although she'd kicked and tried to find a grip on his arms. She hit the bottom with her feet the same second her head disappeared from the water - she kicked off the floor, aiming to get back on the boat, but Jon already had a knife out, eyeing her over it's glistening blade.

"You might as well. You're already wet." Micheal purred at her, raising a nasty snigger from Tom. Adam wetted his lip, eyeing her petrified face and quick panted breaths.

"Hurry up so we can get you outta those clothes." he said thickly, and smiled. The first time she'd seen him really smile, and it had been at the thought of her getting her clothes off. Charming man, really.

She turned and sank again, kicking off from the floor. She had to bounce - her arms and legs were hardly coordinated to walk, let alone swim. Plus the heaviness of her dress, her fear of the men, and the wrongness of stealing, the deep echo in her chest for Rumplestiltskin.

She lifted her hand from the water, caught hold of a rock, and clung to it, pulling herself half out of the water. She held onto it with both hands, her legs kicking and struggling in the layers of the gown. What she wouldn't give for a spontaneous change of her much shorter red dress.

"I'm not doing it." she said sharply, when they cooed at her. "And I'm certainly not stupid enough to go back there and let you have your way with me."

"That's what we were counting on." Micheal said with a perfectly charming smile. "It's your choice, of course, madame."

Although Adam and Jon were already working on maneuvering away from the rocks that had wedged them in. Tom was holding the torch, with enough flickering light so that his twirling finger around his moustache was perfectly visible, along with his typical villainous chuckle.

"Why?" she asked, blinking salty water from her eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" Jon grunted. "We ain't doin' nothin'."

"D'you know what she's talkin' about?"

"Who's talking about what?"

Belle briefly entertained the thought of somehow grabbing onto the back of the retreating boat and somehow holding on undetected until it was back on board. As it was, she could barely breathe without sending tremors through the water, and Micheal was watching her all the while, that same pleasant smile on his mouth.

"I'm not afraid." she called after them, as the torch grew smaller and smaller. "Your the ones who had to gang up on one woman and leave her to mermaids."

"Who said anything about mermaids?" Micheal said, sitting back in the boat. "No, dear, you'll be drowned and caught in this cave until you fall apart, and fish eat what's left of you. You won't have the pleasure of a quick death, oh no. Look at you, already struggling to keep above the water." he laughed at her then, still utterly dashing.

"You're a bunch of cowards." she told them with all due malice. "I'm not afraid to die."

"Well, sweetheart, that's good for you. Go ahead and die."

Adam rounded, an ugly sneer under his beard, highlighted by the way the flame flickered. "No hard feelings."

"No, that's certainly not what's hard in this boat." Jon grumbled, and nodded to Tom, who was nursing a steadily growing erection just by the helpless damsel and her tears.

She yelled after them some more, but they were already out of sight. She pulled herself out of the water but every rocky ledge was vertical, and the perches that were there were just too far away from her cramping hands.

She let go and kicked off the floor to try and reach a grip but missed by a fingernail - then the light from their torch was gone and she had no where to reach for. She tried nearly all the combinations of things she could to try and follow along the wall, but she slipped her grip and splashed back into the water.

It took her long minutes to find a rock she could cling to again, and by then, she was in a petrified hysteria.

She'd never see her papa again. She'd never look upon a baby's face and call it her own. She'd never see Rumplestiltskin again.


	11. Chapter 11

Killian had woken to one of the lads mentioning that Phil had taken ill. Laurence had checked him over, but he'd yet to wake. The medic had said it could just possibly be a deep sleep - if he wasn't awake in a few hours by himself, he'd intervene.

Breakfast was a normal affair, bar the fact that Belle usually situated herself with Dunce and Smee, and both of them missed her, asking after her presence.

"If she's going to be like that," he declared loudly, hoping his voice carried to her. "She can bloody well stay where she is. I don't care if she's off sulking."

"What if she's got what Phil's got?" Dunce said, rubbing his neck. "What if she's sick?"

Peg-Leg sighed into his morning brew, putting an arm around his mate's shoulders. The younger eagerly leaned into him, curling up as well as he could into his side, keen for the unusual show of public affection.

"That's a good point." Laurence raised his eyebrows at the Captain who shrugged his gaze off. "If Phil is sick at all, Dunce, I'll check on her first thing."

"What's Phil got?" Adam leaned over. "Is it syphilis? It's syphilis, isn't it. I dun told him to keep his sword away from that brothel and their sheathes, but no, no one listens to me."

"He's just sleeping." Killian said matter-of-factly. "Alright. I'm off. Don't talk to her if she's going to stay in her room like the spoilt princess she is."

"She's not a princess." Kong said around a mouthful of porridge.

He snorted.

"She'll be out at lunchtime." he informed them, and strode to the wheel of the Roger. He kept an eye out for her, culminating a list of things he could shoot off at her when she finally did emerge. He had full intentions of trying to get her furious enough to storm back into 'her room' and stay there until dinner, then comment on how she was eating like a ravenous animal when she did.

He had to remind himself of the end game, and how it was in his best interests for her to like him.

So with a rueful sigh, he called over Smee and told him to hold the Roger steady, skipping the stairs and finding himself going to apologise to the woman. He had a sorrowful speech planned and everything, Innocent, guilty eyes in check. He was ready for her to refuse him entry or slam the door in his face, for her to hate him or throw herself at him, which wouldn't be the first time it'd happened with a woman he was in a squabble with.

What he wasn't expecting were for his men to be moving him back into his quarters.

"What's going on, here?"

"Your little lady jumped ship." Jon said cheerfully, which was a clue in and of itself as to the fact that something was clearly wrong.

"She what?" He blinked, confused. The men continued to shift his weapons, various precious items, most of his clothes, carrying boxes of charts and maps past his stunned face. "Oi! Oi, wait just a damn minute. What did you lot do?"

"We didn't do nothin'." Tom said gleefully. They, as an entire group, seemed too pleased with themselves. Like children, the lot of them were, pre-emptively doing what they thought he wanted to gain his favour, all the while so sure that they were doing the right thing.

"Maybe she got scared of something." Chase offered from beside him, clapping him on the shoulder. "I'll check the boats and supplies."

Adam said with a shook of his head with a low chuckle, disappearing behind his cabin door with a sword under one arm and a heavy trunk in his hands.

"She must've taken fright," Micheal continued with a thoughtful look on his unmarked face. "One of the boys, maybe, handled her too roughly, or some such."

Killian spun to see that Chase had returned, looking grim.

"One of the smallest boats is gone, along with a few packs of bread and water." he murmured as he held out a length of black velvet, and his key. He tossed it with precision enough that it landed over the tip of his hook and swung steadily. "I found this wedged in the bread box. She must've left after breakfast, else wise Chef couldn't have missed it."

"Well?" He whirled, seeing Smee looking wounded over the wheel, as though her absence was a physical blow to his person. The rest of his crew, from face to face, looked just as confused and mistrusting as he felt, sending the four hard looks. He surmised it was only at Chase's involvement that they had doubts about the more savoury characters of his crew.

Chef stepped forward, waving his hands.

"No, no ways I woulda mist 'er, Captain. I's been workin' bread all morn."

"Will?" he demanded. "Did you see anything happen? Did anyone touch her?"

Will looked particularly pale, shaking his head so hard his hair lifted.

"No sir," he said, his voice cracking. He cleared it, blushing to the roots of his hair, before he added: "But I didn't see her leave her room this morning, either, sir."

And if Belle had've ventured forth from her place of living, Will had always been the first to see her and say hello. He couldn't understand the frown that Chase sent his way, however, or why Adam and Jon shared a look.

"Has anyone seen her?" They all shook their heads, furrowed their brows, vouched that Belle was not stupid enough to run off alone, with barely bread and water and no compasses to guide her.

"She ain't confident in the water," Dunce said loudly. Peg-Leg caught his hand, tried to calm him down, but the younger shook him off. "NO! No, she didn't - she ain't strong enough for the water, Cap, she wouldn't go without even sayin' goodbye or nothing!"

"You were the ones who taught her about the tide and how to navigate with nothing but stars." Chase said carefully. "Do you know if she actually retained enough of that information to do something as stupid as this?"

"She's not stupid!" Dunce said loudly, and barely allowed Peg-Leg to wrestle him back by his side. His head was turned away from the other's sneers and pitying looks, hidden away in the cripple's shirt front, taking heaving breaths to calm himself, hands in fists around his clothes.

"Aye." Peg-Leg gruffed, rubbing soothing circles on his mate's back. "She's not stupid. She'd know how to navigate to land, at the very least."

"They did something!" Dunce encouraged from his hunched place, buried away in Peggy's chest. He struggled only briefly with the restraints on him. "Belle didn't want to leave! She wouldn't have done it without saying goodbye! _They_, they did something!"

"I don't think so." Micheal drawled, and folded his arms over his chest, giving Peg-Leg a pointed look. "You should muzzle your dog."

Laurence, who'd gone to soothe the man, stopped midway through his careful pacing and turned his head so fast his neck cracked. He raised his brows at the well dressed pirate who, under the stare, shifted uncomfortably, looking instantly guilty.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked in his slow way.

"What I think Micheal was trying to say, " Chase offered up. "Was that Dunce cannot _prove_ that we did anything."

"We?" Killian repeated, narrowing his eyes on the long time shipmate.

"I assumed I was included in that number." was the calm reply.

"YOU ARE!" Dunce shot out from under Peggy's arm but Laurence was in the way - Smith caught him at the waist and hoisted him back a few feet, enough for Peg-Leg to waddle over to him and plant a careful kiss on his forehead, scrubbing away the tears on his face with his grubby sleeve.

"Did anyone touch her?" Killian asked, looking around. There were general murmurs, while the four (five?) in question gave a more verbal answer, all various forms of the negative.

She _wasn't, _stupid enough, to try and run. It didn't make sense. Had she been running away from him? Their fights? Had he really driven her to this?

No. No. He knew women. He knew Belle. She wasn't so weak, and he wasn't so cruel.

"Did anyone _touch her_?" he bellowed, lifting his hook to each suspicious face. "Woe be it to the man that touched her! I'll tear holes in you so deep you'll bleed _marrow_, do I make myself clear?"

They, again, gave him an unsatisfactory answer. He slammed his fist against the wall, making Micheal and Tom jolt at the loud echo.

"Am I under_stood?!"_

"Yes, Captain." they said in perfect, gruff usion.

"We have to find her." was his first order. "Will, get your arse up into that nest and keep an eye on every angle. Laurence, I want you, Dunce and Peg-Leg to go and make sure that Phil is, in fact, ill. If he's anything else, I expect to be informed instantly, and his will be included into the only words I listen to on the matter. I don't believe that Belle has spontaneously jumped ship."

"She might've been learning, Captain," Chase said fairly. "Biding her time 'till she knew enough to get away safely."

"Bullshit." Kong said, his angled face looking statuesque. If he didn't have such a definitive accent, it'd be questionable if he'd actually spoken at all. "Belle is a brave and sturdy woman, she would've at least seen this voyage through."

"Aye." grunted Peg-Leg, followed by his mate's more muffled assertion.

"You're right." Killian agreed, and turned his dark stare onto Adam, and Jon, who inflated but said nothing. "If I find out who scared her..."

"It'd take a fair sight more than a few grizzly pirates to scare me." Said a serene voice.

They whirled to see Belle, calmly fiddling with beads tangled through her hair. They collectively gawked; she was wearing one of the captain's loose white shirts, falling almost to her knees, and not a single thing else.

The beads in her wavy hair were opalescent, beautiful, and she had nigh a dozen unwoven in her cupped hand already. Dainty woven rings of sea weed encircled her bare ankles, with mother of pearl shells dangling in attractive, glistening patterns. There appeared to be glitter on the paleness of her shapely calves.

"Little known fact," she said, pushing off the ledge, stepping down onto a crate before she dropped gracefully onto the floor. "I read. I read a lot. And mermaids are one of my favourite subjects." She went to Killian, unfurled his bruising hand, and let the pearls roll into his palm.

He blinked at them, at her, then curled his fingers around the pearls, around her palm.

"Belle...?"

"Mermaids are curious creatures by nature." She said with a wicked smile. "But so am I."

"Mermaids?" he repeated.

"I've always been a sucker for a good story. And we couldn't stop fighting. So I thought I would follow in your footsteps, go claim a booty from the mermaids and bring it back." she had a mask on, one he couldn't see under. Her eyes were bloodshot around the edges and she was fretting at the length of his shirt with her other hand, flinching every time a wind blew. "I thought that I might bridge a gap, if I did. I don't like fighting."

"And what did you do, so they didn't rip your eyes out?" Chase asked.

"I told them what was going on." She shrugged one shoulder, eyes twinkling with mischief. "I hope you didn't miss me too badly. I thought I'd better get some clothes on before I came back top side. Mermaids aren't keen on keeping their company clothed, that's true enough."

She smiled sweetly on the same men who had begun moving him back into his private cabin, but didn't say a word as she held up a golden tiara, pinched between her fingers. She fluttered her lashes, went to the side of the ocean, and called: "Ariel!"

A red headed mermaid flipped out of the sea, catching the crown. She spun in the air, like a dancer, and hollered: "Thank you!"

There was a terrific splash - dark shadows swirled around under the water, their shape distinctly mermidian. A bright red shock of hair broke the dark blue, and she lifted an arm in a friendly wave.

"Good luck with your Derek, love!" she wished her with a blown kiss.

"Likewise, darling!" She wished her in return, making the noble giggle as the sea princess disappeared into the water. Belle just shook her head, waved again as more shapes spun around under the water, and made her way back to the stunned Captain, retrieving her key from his hook.

Dunce was let out from behind Laurence so he could barrel at her and swing her into a hug, before putting her down with a big grin. She spared him a few pearls, which he stared at with wide eyes, before giving her another hug.

"I knew you didn't leave." he told her, quite frankly.

"Of course not. I'd at least say goodbye."

"That's what I said!"

She laughed, leaned back to see his face, then around him to smile on Killian, who was still trying to figure out just what the hell had happened.

"Belle?" he said again, catching her eye. He trapped her in the knowing stare as though he had hooked her and dragged her under his chin. He realised now that he'd began to panic, thinking that his chances of revenge had been dashed.

"My dear Captain. If you do excuse me, I am exhausted." she smiled at him, a convincing smile, a 'I'll-talk-to-you-later' smile.

Laurence made to step forward, presumably to offer medical help, but she waved him away with a much faker smile for him.

"I'm fine." though her voice was husky, as though she'd been screaming and had lost it at some point the night before. "Mermaids gossip like you wouldn't believe, all through the night, well into the morning. Oh, and Killian?"

Her grin was particularly naughty.

"Say what you want about parting with a mermaid by more oral means... But they have kisses too, you know." she winked.

And just like that, she waltzed back into her cabin, and locked the door behind her.


	12. Chapter 12

She slept the rest of the day, until Dunce had gotten bored of waiting for her and had woken her up with his indecent banging on her door. Laurence had told her he'd like to go over her exhaustion, if she wouldn't mind, for the purposes of medical science, of course.

She emerged in the red dress - but with the Captain's black leather trousers, and a coat to match. It was tied at the waist, narrowing how it looked bulky on her smaller frame, with a red bandanna keeping most of her hair out of her face.

She'd come for food and for company, but the way her hand pressed against her belly told Killian as much. They'd decided to come on deck and bask under the stars to listen to what tale she would undoubtedly spin - Killian had the idea, and had thusly lead the crew. With a bright eyed stare, he nodded to her, pleased that she was back. And all he did from there was take his eyes off her for just a few seconds to situate himself on a crate.

She'd taken one step toward the merry making and food sharing before Adam barreled into her side, winding the scream out of her before she could even think to make it.

Tom grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked her head back, while Jon drew a knife and went to her side, clamping his other palm down over her gasping mouth. He made a tutting noise at her ear while Adam and Micheal started pulling at her hair, taking clumps of strands with them as they went.

_The pearls! _she realized desperately_. There are still pearls in my hair - and now that I've slept with them in - OW!_

Jon used his knife to cut loose a strand of hair, holding it up for her to see as they started to drag her furiously struggling body backwards, toward darkness, a hand down her shirt confirmed that they were grasping for the key, going to lock her in the cabin and they were going to-

"_You leave her alone_!" was Laurence and his boom of a voice. No sooner had he spoke than something heavy dropped down upon Jon's head, a direct hit, no doubt from Will at the crow's nest.

They spun as both Peggy and Dunce got to their feet, wearing equally feral glares, while Smith calmly put his plate aside, stood to his full height, and cracked his neck, something terrifying in itself.

Jon was the one who shoved her hard - her hip hit the railing of the ship, and in her too long - too tight! - pants, she stumbled. She didn't see who grabbed her ankle and flipped her overboard, all she knew was the black, deceptively calm water, and how it was churning underneath.

As captain, Killian's duty was to ensure that his cohort lived together in relative peace and harmony, despite their natures. It was his duty to the men to settle quarrels and lay waste to fights building in tension, rapidly gaining momentum.

However, as a gentleman, it was his duty to run and step straight off the balcony, diving hook-first into the water after the woman.

She still hadn't come up - the current was strong enough, and she wore enough clothes, to weigh her down. She'd only taken one breath; he wouldn't lie, he panicked when he couldn't see her, when it was too dark to even see his hand under the salty water.

"CAPTAIN! ON YER LEFT!" that was Will, who threw a length of rope out to a specifically churning spot. He lost his coat to give him more room to move, took the rope in his teeth, and dived under again. When he had nearly run out of air, he saw the pale outline of a barely struggling form.

_Gods, no._

In the silence, the darkness, it was easy to slow down time, to make a second with burning lungs screech on for an hour, at least. Although the light was dim and the water blurred his vision, he was acutely aware of the fact that he was now panicking, unable to bear the thought of Belle, who was the pillar of brightness and life on his ship... He couldn't imagine, didn't even want to fathom losing her due to his incompetence -

He caught her waist with his hook and kicked for all he was worth, dragging her against the weight of clothes and the tug of the ocean. As he broke the surface he heard her spit out more water than she inhaled air.

The first thing he did was clamp her legs around his waist, neglecting to think of how weak they were. Her arms naturally encircled his shoulders, and he tore a hole in her coat to get it off of her. She was struggling, but still conscious, her arms shaking around him as her head dropped back, baring her throat to the moon.

The rope he tied around her waist, which equalled to his chest, biting the salty end and dragging it into a crude knot as a desperate man with one hand is prone to doing. He breathed hard and desperate with her, pulling her up into sitting, leaning her against him, listening to her heart banging loudly against her sternum.

"What-?" she croaked.

"Shut up." was all he could pant in return. "I'm listening." and he continued to listen to her heart beating as they were hoisted up, the rope burning them both, but neither unable to feel it.

Laurence untangled her from the rope before they were even on the ship and swept her up into a bridal carry, lifting her to a table Peg-Leg had swiped his arm across and emptied for him. Dunce had shed his coat and folded it for under her head - Will was hanging above them, fretting nervously with a frayed end of rope.

Smee and Smith pulled him over the ledge, letting him get to his own feet, his rage with the men involved now a seething, red-hot cesspit. The image of blurry, still Belle, drowning, flashed across his eyes, and he found himself more and more angry that he'd nearly lost her.

"Keelhaul." he growled, barely loud enough to carry to the exhausted noble. "All of them."

"What's a keelhaul?" Belle rasped, as Laurence checked her pulse against his own. He ignored her, Dunce looked mortified, while Peggy just hissed his approval of the Captain's decision. There was an uproar, mostly from the men to be 'keelhauled', though the rest of the noise was celebratory in nature. Belle scrubbed at the burning water in her eyes, found Will, looking wide eyed and nervous, as she asked him what it meant to be keelhauled.

"There's barnacles and nasties piled up on the underside of the boat." Dunce muttered, looking away as Peg-Leg skipped to tackle Tom, who'd taken off in a fast sprint. Kong aided the man by twisting Tom's stick thin arms up behind his back in some complex looking hold. "They tie 'em up with a length of rope, half the crew grabs one end, half the other, and they... I don't feel good, Laurie."

"I don't understand." Belle gasped as her body registered pain, a sharp, stabbing pain on her side.

"They wipe them, across the hull." Laurence said with particular bitterness, now cleaning the cut from Killian's hook - one she didn't realise she had until she was more coherent. "The barnacles are sharp as broken glass and if they don't just wear to death, they drown."

Belle, having just almost drowned herself, tried to sit up, only to have a single black hand hold her down as hot blood poured out of her.

"They won't learn otherwise." she was told in a firm voice. "Captain's only ever keelhauled twice before. He knows how to let them survive."

"No." she tried to sit up again, but again, he stopped her. She looked across at the horrific scene - Jon, Adam, Tom and Micheal where already caught and being tied up, their cries and struggles giving her cause enough to choke on tears, as well as pain and lack of breath. She pushed at Laurence but he took her wrist, made her face him with determined black eyes.

"Yes, they are to be pitied. But look at _him_." he instructed, so she did.

Killian was pale as a sheet, his hand clamped over his hook, as he watched the men be tied up. Will was called for his expertise in rope tying, but he'd already ducked behind the table, and was refusing to make so much as a peep. Dunce stood protectively in front of him, as if to absorb their attention. It must've worked, they ended up forgetting him, but Killian's eyes went skyward, to the crow's nest, as if looking for him there.

"It's not-" she coughed, spluttered sea water onto the deck. "Please- let me-"

"Don't get involved, love." Dunce said kindly, running a gnarled hand over her wet, tangled hair. "Pretend it isn't happening. That's what I do. Sing a song with me?"

"I can't-" attractively, she coughed up more brine, which Laurence seemed to expect. She had no idea how so much water got into her body, when she could've sworn she'd only held her breath.

With energy she didn't think she had, she shoved away Laurence's hand, skipped past Dunce and wobbled through the crowd, shoving until she got to the forefront. She ignored the captive men and threw herself at Killian- who caught her with his one good arm, his face grim.

"Don't do it."

He didn't say anything, he just rose a slow brow at the men who were at various stages of begging, bargaining, acceptance and rage. He lifted his eyes back to her, who clung so desperately to him, and had the strongest urge to listen to her heart beating again.

"Killian." she caught his face between two dripping hands, forced him to look at her. His name on her mouth, even shaky and unsure as it was, sounded perfectly fine, in the space where he usually preferred 'Captain'. He hoisted her sagging form more firmly against his body, head cocked slightly to one side, his teeth clenched tight enough to prompt a head ache.

The men were jeering, shouting them on, daring them to kiss, daring him to give the order to hoist the men overboard. They were calling for blood, calling for pain, and for death, but they all blended together, like the water in his ears refused to let him listen to them.

Which was strange, because when Belle said his name, it was clear as day.

"Killian, please."

"No." he replied, and put his hooked arm around her waist too. She shed several tears against her will, her breathing uneven, still coughing, still trying to talk, to beg for mercy on their behalf. "Go back to Laurence."

"Captain's rules." she croaked, and took a steadying, half choked breath in. "I tripped."

Time, for the second time that night, slowed nearly to a total stop. The sound went out. All he knew were bloodshot eyes, sickly breaths, and pale, smooth skin.

If she called Captain's rules - _prove it_ - then said she tripped, he wouldn't be able to coax the truth from the men on pain of their death. He hadn't actually seen her fall, he'd just heard her scream and the splash, and the men had been right there.

_Prove it. _

He couldn't break his own rule. He'd told her the importance of his word and how if rules began to break for one they'd break for all, and she was now using that logic against him.

_Wench._

"You... Clever, stupid beauty." he murmured, lifting his hand to run a thumb over the blue in her mouth. He didn't land it, however, more hovering over her cheek and brow, before tangling it in the wet curls of her hair. He selected one bead, rolled it between his fingers, then turned and surveyed the mounting anarchy.

"Killian?" she whimpered, sounding sad and awful.

"Any of you see it happen?" he tried to spy Will, he usually saw everything, but the boy was in hiding. "Did any of you see it happening?!" he said in a raw bellow, making her flinch all the way down to her toes. When his actions were questioned, he felt the colour flood his face again.

"Captain's rules! She says she tripped!"

"Bullshit!"

"She hit her head, or summat!"

"I did no such thing." she enunciated carefully, drawing to her full, albeit quivering, height. "I tripped. You can let them go."

The four accused just stared at her, equal amounts confused, while Jon just continued to look furious, as was his default setting. Chase was quick to move and unknot them, barely stopping Jon from slicing Kong into little bitty pieces. He muttered so lowly that Jon's anger was broken to ask what he'd said.

Killian didn't even blink, he didn't want to miss the moment that Chase was on their side, against him. He stared down the mate until he'd ushered the four out of sight, bellow deck, then checked on Belle, who was leaning heavily against his side, one hand fisting his shirt tight enough to draw water out of it, the other pressed tight on her side.

He sighed.

"C'mere, love." He bent and lifted her, hook under her knees. She barely protested - he wouldn't have listened even if she had've. Laurence lead the way, opening the cabin door for them. He went in and sat her on the bed, kneeling to keep her height.

"I'm alright." she said, tiredly.

"You're protecting men who tried to kill you." he retorted. "I'd say you weren't alright, at all."

She just winced, pulled back her hand to see the blood cooling on her palm. Laurence dabbed at the wound to see it wasn't so deep, though bleeding heavily, and began the gruelling process of cleaning it with a stinging solution Belle suffered through in silence, aside from her initial: "Ow."

Killian waited it out with her, sat on the floor by her legs. When Laurence was done and he'd declared her healthy, the Captain rose, and without a word to her, left the room. He did, however, send Will to get her food and water, before retiring in his hammock, completely aware he'd just walked in during some kind of scheming between the accused four and his long term mate.

He had no intention of furthering his questions until he was sure he could contain his rage. If he'd lost her, he'd lost the closest link he had to the crocodile, the key to his revenge was with the girl. He could see Chase and his guilt through the calm façade, now, but he'd known the man long enough to give him a chance to explain himself in his own time.

Or until his patience wore thin.


	13. Chapter 13

Killian was usually one of the last to wake, but he hadn't slept a single wink in his hammock, wedged between Wobbly Ken and Windy Joe. So naturally he dozed lightly for a few hours after sun had broken on the horizon - and when he finally rose and found Belle sitting in front of Laurence and Will with her lip bloodied and bruised, he just about vowed to tie a hammock at the end of her bed and not leave her out of sights again.

"What the bloody-?!" he took a deep breath, let it hiss between his teeth, noticing the way that not one single person seemed concerned. "What happened now?"

"I tripped again. Clumsy me." There was a bright, glittering light in her eyes, however, and she seemed to be smiling, behind all the blood on her face.

He knocked Laurence's hands out of his way and bent to inspect her chin and split lip himself - the already blue imprint of knuckles against the bone white of her skin. It was still an angry, recent, red.

"I suppose you fell straight into a fist, then?" he didn't know why she was lying to him. Laurence just stepped back and chuckled to himself, making Killian round on him to frown. WHen would that bastard laugh at a woman's misfortune - let alone one that involved her bleeding as she was?

His eye caught Smith, who appeared to be drying off from an earlier swim, with a nervous Peg-Leg and an equally wet Dunce beside him, watching the Captain with matching, victorious grins on their faces. They were still mostly dripping onto the deck - Will was whistling a merry tune, caught in one of his ropes at a moderately safe distance, one of Jon's knives in his hand, picking at his fingernails.

_Jon's... Knife? He never goes without the bloody things._

He blinked. Turned back to the girl, who he'd unintentionally boxed into the table with his arms, not that she seemed to mind, nursing the split lip as she was with a somewhat... proud, smile.

"What did I miss?" he quirked a brow, stood more fully.

"Nothing, Captain." she said with all the innocence of an eight year old fire starter.

He narrowed his eyes, lifted his hook to peel away her hand from her face, carefully curving it between her cheek and hand. He inspected the fist again, taking the damp rag and blotting the blood carefully, eyes searching the blooming bruise and the large swelling cut.

"Adam's ring." he said in as casual tones as he could muster. "What did it have on it, again?"

"A griffon." Will said with a merry whistle.

"Funny." he gave her back the rag. "This bruise looks just like a griffon."

"Oh, does it?" she said in a breathy, silly way. "I wouldn't know, obviously. It's on my face."

"Hm." he agreed shortly, turned to give Laurence a hard stare. "Anything you want to tell me, medic?"

"She tripped." the man boomed in his sure and steady way. "Captain."

"Pete." he had to repeat himself twice, because no one ever called Peg-Leg by just his name, much like no one ever called him Killian, any more. That was how the man knew he was in trouble. Like a father to a son. "Pete. You see anything worth mentioning, a little while past? Anything I might find... Interesting, to know?"

Pete, for all he was a man after gore, just shrugged, his smile badly hidden as he rubbed his chipped wooden stump. He was bleeding at the throat, and when Killian motioned to it, Dunce supplied: "Cut it shaving, Cap'in."

"Which is why he has a full beard cross his face." he stared hard at the simpleton, who more or less gave him a nervous twitch and looked back down to Smith, who had one large hand pressed over his ribcage, and was wheezing. "Simon?"

"Simon?" Belle repeated, then noticed that Smith had turned two different kinds of red. "Oh, but Simon is a lovely name."

"Name's Simon Smith." Will swung over to her, suspended upside down by his feet, swinging slightly in the ocean breeze. "Hates his name, reckons it keeps him grounded, more civilian and less pirate."

Which was of course, why Killian had used it, though he was a naughty boy.

"Cap?" Smith met his stare head on. Even spread against a barrel, slouched and wet as he was, he was a big man. Killian noticed his hand was cut up on the side, like defensive wounds from swordplay.

He turned his eyes all about the ship, the way that he was being watched then avoided like the damn plague. Counting men, noticing he was about four short, if he correctly knew who was still in the cabins. Adam, Jon, Micheal and Tom where no where in sight.

"I might have a word with Micheal and Tom. Adam and Jon too, 'bout their behaviour, last night." he said easily, raising his eyebrows, daring someone to defy him. They looked from each other to Belle, who simply sighed, and gave him a patient smile. "Well, lass? Have you seen them since then?"

"Oh, yes, I have." she mused, fluttery blood-clotted lashes at him. "Tragic thing, really."

"Tragic?" he nodded. Of course, the woman would tell him. "What, is bloody tragic?"

"_They_ tripped." she said simply. Her smile was completely vicious, wrought of weeks aboard a pirate vessel and nearly dying the night prior. She didn't blink as she smiled back at him, which was... unnerving.

Again with the Captain's rule. He was really beginning to hate that 'prove it', rule. He was actually beginning to realize just how far he'd underestimated this little beauty, how much he'd based her assessment on her looks to dictate her intelligence.

"I suppose all four of them tripped straight over board, did they?"

"Why, yes, they did." and she blinked once more. "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess, milady." he drawled, and narrowed his eyes on the swinging (giggling) lad who'd began to scurry up to his nest. "_Willhelm."_

The boy sat up, straightened, and slid back down the rope, the dagger in it's custom designed sheath and hanging loosely on his narrow set hip.

"You mean to tell me that as a man was falling over board, you had time to undo the buckle and take the knife, as opposed to say, pull him back?"

"This old thing?" the boy chirped, then sobered under his glare. "Oh, uhm, he- it, it came loose, I guess."

"You guess." he repeated, nodding. "Someone's going to start talking or I'm going to start rationing the rum." A low blow, even for him. Belle replied by taking him by the arm, unphazed by the threat, considering she didn't drink.

"We should talk more privately, Captain Jones." she said in what would've been an attractive voice, if her mouth hadn't been turning blue from abuse. She unlocked her - his - the cabin door and invited him inside, much to the sneaky catcalls and wolf whistles that met them.

"What happened?" he said, before the door had fully closed behind her.

"We told you." she said very simply. "They tripped. Weather or not we may have helped them into tripping... That is another matter, indeed." she went to the mirror, studying her face with prodding fingers and a painful wince. He folded his arms across his chest, displeased and oddly proud all in one.

"'Helped'?"

"Mm-hmm." she flicked her eyes to him in the mirror. "I was only returning a courtesy."

"You're-..." he cut himself short. Was it because she was a woman, that he had this - cold, in his gut? Because she was looking at him with that horrific griffon stamped into her lip? Or was it because she'd pulled him aside to tell him the truth, wearing his clothes, in his cabin, with her eyes on him and only him - after he'd seen her near dead, mostly drowned, was that why he was-...?

Feeling?

"Belle." he said dangerously, despite the grin curving his lip, but she repeated: "They tripped."

She dropped her eyes to her hands, and that's when he saw they were shaking. They hadn't been a moment ago, when they had been on a mostly tender exploration of her injured face. He abruptly stopped smiling, and went to her side, watching the colour rise in her cheeks.

She kept her eyes downcast.

"Belle?"

She swallowed back a heavy mouthful, shoving trembling hands into the pockets of his borrowed waistcoat.

"Look at me, lass."

"I didn't want to-" she started, then shut her eyes tight and closed her mouth. He put a very careful hand on her shoulder, deeming it safe territory, and guided her to a chair, where she sat down, stiff as a board.

"Open your eyes." he murmured, lifting her chin from where it was planted on her chest. "Come on, love. Tell me."

"They tripped." she repeated, and swallowed a heavy mouthful. She took a long, shaky breath, before opening her eyes to see him crouched between her knees, a hook steadying him on the chair and a hand retreating from her face.

"You didn't want to what?" he prodded. He was giving her his soft stare, his 'yes, tell me everything, I'm listening intently' stare, the one he often pulled on when his women got to talking about life and all the details in it. Although now this woman was giving him absolutely nothing but guilt.

"Killian?" she said in a very small, very womanly way.

He hated when she used his name.

"Hmm?"

"I-..." she choked on it, seemed to read his face, her eyes going side to side across his features. "I just... Nothing."

She gave him nothing but apprehensive fear for his efforts, her lip beading with blood. He just untucked a handkerchief and passed it to her, which she accepted with both hands but just held onto.

"Your lip." he said, raising to his feet. "Probably from where you fell."

And without so much as another word, he slid his hook through the velvet necklace on her throat, tugging it free, turning on his heel. She jumped to her feet instantly.

"What are you doing?"

"Can't have you tripping all about the place." he retorted. "You might fall overboard again, and I don't fancy a swim."

"W- Wait!" she caught his shoulder, turned him around. He stared at her hands, rosy knuckled as though from fisticuffs. He didn't know why that made him just a mite more proud, but as it stood, he was dominantly annoyed with the entire situation and only rose a brow at her confused expression.

"What am I waiting for, exactly?" he removed the key from the end of his hook, holding it up between them.

She made to swipe at it, but he flipped it into his fist, making her grab that instead.

"What are you doing with my key?" she then tried to pry his hand open.

"My, key." he corrected, and shoved that fist with both her dainty hands wrapped around it, giving her more than enough cause to have her stumble back. "My, cabin. My, ship. My, rules. You-" hr pointed at her then, right into her face.

She stood her ground, but was looking far from brave, more desperate. He didn't have much else to say that wouldn't lead to him swinging at something. So he just jabbed a finger in her direction, stalked out of the room, and locked her in just as she caught the handle.

"Killian!"

_Thump thump thump._

"Let me out of here!"

"Don't think so, love." he leaned against the door, hip and shoulder, eyeing the lockpiece in his palm. "It's for your best interest."

"Killian!"

_Thump thump- Bang!_

"Let me out!"

"Apologies, I can't hear you, there's a door in the way."

_Thump thump... Smash! _

"That temper isn't really becoming of a noble, you know." he told the door. "I'm not cleaning that up."

"Temper!" he heard her cry. "You've locked me up!"

"It could be worse, darling." he mused. "Could be in the dungeon."

"Killian!"

_Thump thump - silence_.

He wasn't really concerned, turning the key over in his fingers, sending a challenging glare at the men until _- CRUNCH - SPLINTER - SHING_!

The blade slid through the wood nearly three inches from his face, like she'd grabbed on to a sword with two hands and stabbed the life out of his very expensive wood. The blade was retracted as he jerked away from the door, staring at it like it had just swung open by it's own accord and began chastising him.

"Oi!" he barked, as the blade bit through wood again. "Stop that!"

"Make me!"

Dear gods. She was another child he had to deal with.

Short of kicking in the door - because that would do it more damage and break the lock, negating the point of having locked her in there to begin with - he shoved the key in the mouth, waited for the sword to come sliding through, then yanked it open, bending to catch the falling noble over his shoulder.

His hook balanced out on her calf, even as she struggled very furiously, she really didn't do much but punch his backside. Even that was half hearted, due to her fists already taking their quota of pain that morning.

"Enjoying the view?" he queried, pulling the sword out of the door.

"Let me-!"

"No, I don't think I will."

"You're_ hurting_ me!"

"Well, who's fault is that?"

"Why are you being like this?!"

"Like what, darling?"

"Like_ RUMPLESTILTSKIN!"_

There were many words to describe just how that made him feel, but none of them could really explain how it made his heart sting to the point where he simply ceased feeling thing at all. The idea had been to keep her safe (and to a degree, in her place), he would've let her out by lunch time. Then she'd stabbed his door and, while he was mostly annoyed at the damage done to his ship, he was also two parts amused.

Now he felt nothing.

He tossed her down onto the chair, making her swing onto it's two hind legs and her flail with the force of it. He'd strode away with the sword in his hand to leave and lock her in again when-

"_He used to do this to me_!" and she threw something that smashed over his shoulder. "Lock me up! Run away! Why are _you_ doing this?! I thought _you _were at least above this _nonsense_!"

His shoulders had tensed up higher and higher towards his ears with every word she seethed his way. With a certain degree of difficulty, he unlocked his jaw. The men were all nervous, now, staring back at him, knowing his hurt and fearing for the girl. He closed the door with a precisely aimed kick, making it BANG! closed, and felt something break across his shoulders.

A vase.

_Typical - bloody - woman._

He turned. She apparently saw the darkness on his face and frantically searched for something else to throw - she yanked out the draw and swung it by the handle.

He marched back to her and used the blade to block the heavy wooden chest piece, imbedding it in the wood. So he forcibly tossed the sword aside so he didn't accidentally stab her in the throat, never mind the fact it had a drawer attached to it.

She was searching for something else to throw when he put both arms around her and hoisted her up off the floor, tossing her down to the bed with enough force to make her bounce. With out any traction, she scrambled uselessly against the blankets, grabbing fistfuls of them to try and drag herself away.

He put his hook through the front of her shirt and yanked her forward - she smacked him hard in the face.

Naturally she struggled, caught both her attacking hands in his single one. He had a knee pressed on the bed for balance, though he could see how the potentially could have looked particularly devious, especially considering the woman was wedged between him and the bed with her hands caught under his belly and she lay flat on her back, her knee unable to jerk up and hit him where it might actually do some damage.

"I," he said very quietly. "Am _nothing_, like him."

_"Yes you are!"_

"Belle." he caught her jaw between his thumb and forefinger, making her cry out at the injury already inflicted there. "I, am nothing, like him."

"Then why are you behaving just _like_ him?" she shouted, and squirmed. "I would know, wouldn't I? Took him his- _meals_! Made his bed! Laundred- folded- ironed out his clothes! Cleaned his - bloody - library! Fell madly in love with-" that made her cease fighting. She pressed her lips together, turned her head away and let out a loud sob.

He sighed, though she wouldn't know, she was too busy trying to stop crying. It took him a few slow moments, but he released her hands and sat back, knee still on the bed. She hid her eyes, turned onto her side, drawing into herself.

"I would know," she sobbed. "Because I _still_ love him, and I _still _want him, and I want to go home to him and have him _love me too_! And _you_-" she kicked him in the thigh. "-You're off taking detours, _delaying_ all of that, taking me to my father, who's only lot in life is to make sure I- is to keep me from- is to- to- marry me off to _Gaston_! I _don't want _Gaston!"

As if she hadn't made that abundantly clear.

She kicked him again, though it was something he didn't actually feel with his body, just with his heart. She was attacking him with words and fists. He concluded, with many years of dealing with women, that this tantrum had been a long time coming, probably not entirely his faut, just triggered by him.

Unlucky.

"I want to go _home_." she moaned into her hands, her body curled into an impossibly small ball on the bed.

_Home, they say, is where the heart is__._

All these weeks of meticulously earning her gradual admiration and respect, all these weeks put into nearly losing the crew to mutiny and barely holding it all together by a thread, all undone, because she was still in love with a bloody monster and his temper had got away from him.

He stormed out and slammed the door without a word to her, snarling an order to navigate as he'd written. He forewent breakfast in favour of something a little more - alcoholic - bunkered down in the shared quarters and made short work of the first two bottles, only raising to swagger up the stairs and demand that someone join him for a drink.

But only if they brought the drink, of course.


	14. Chapter 14

This is one of my favourite chapters ever. :)

Aude

xx

* * *

He knocked with his hook until she opened up the door, one continuous stream. He nearly fell in, until she caught his shoulder with a surprisingly hot little hand.

He laughed, pleasantly dizzy, leaning against the frame, hiccuping a little before giving her his most dazzling, raunchy smile. His eyes half lidded, he didn't even notice she was looking concerned until he'd fallen to his knees and barked his laughter into the floor.

"...Are you okay?"

"M' not drunk, woman!"

"I didn't say you were." She was apprehensive. She'd never dealt with drunkards before - the men weren't ever like this, paralytic as he was. Although he couldn't stop giggling, surely he couldn't be that bad, contrite to earlier behaviour. "Can I help you with something, Captain?"

He blinked, grinning up at her, leaning to one side heavily enough to nearly topple back to the floor. He wobbled to his feet, sliding up the door frame, using the hook to dig into the wood and pull himself up. She waited, his dressing gown pulled tightly around her shoulders.

"I found- oh wait, wrong werd - I fergot, I fergot somethin' in 'ere. Can I?"

"Can you?" She repeated. "Can you what?"

His grin dropped.

"No, no, yer a lady. F'ew don't wont me innere, I won't go in. You guttar tell me 'f'ew dun mind I'm n'ere."

"It's your ship." She reminded him with a too cool, wrath-of-woman-scorned tone, and opened the door further. "Get in and out before you fall over. Again."

"Ta!" He said brightly, and stumbled in. "I fergot. I fergot- oh, yeah, s'what I neery din' do-"

He turned as she closed the door, spun her by the shoulder, tipped her face up, and planted as gentle a kiss as his drunken body would allow. Straight on her mouth.

Hallelujah, she tasted like-

_Mmmmm._

For a long minute he kissed her mouth, just sucking on each lip of hers in turn, coaxing a response enough to encourage him on. He was too drunk to realize if she was or wasn't pushing or pulling him, so he just continued, dipping the tip of his tongue into the shocked part of her mouth and swiping at hers, like he was snatching away something before she could hide it behind her teeth.

He made a low, satisfied noise, pressed his lips against the hollow in her throat, trying in earnest to both catch his breath and take all that he could without scaring her off - a difficult thing to multitask at the best of times, never mind doing so after a three score of shots and hours of binge drinking.

He inhaled her scent like he was trying to suck up her skin, ran his mouth across her neck, leaving hot tails of spit and cooling kisses, enough to make her breakout into goose-flesh he could feel against his tongue.

She made noise - Happy? Scared? Satisfied? - as he dragged his stubble up her throat and caught her ear between his teeth, suckling on the lobe for a moment before peppering kisses up across her brow, down to her nose.

"You've the cutest nose," he murmured against her top lip, his chest heaving against hers, body heavily pressed so he didn't fall, like his drunken legs offered to do. "Gods, yer beautiful. You make me sick, yer so-"

He caught her mouth again, breathing in her quickly panted breaths like they were free air to a cursed man. He pressed more gentle kisses against her scabbed lip, the mottled bruising under her skin.

"Wish I could take it away," he murmured, hand roaming to squeeze at her waist. "I dun want you t' be hurt, neemore, Belle, makes me sick, you don't- I can't-" he kissed her lip again, wrapped her up in a tight embrace, to the point where he could feel her breasts squashed between them both and she would undoubtedly feel him, somewhere against her navel.

That thought made him stop. He was in no condition to have her think that he had intentions of bedding her. He was in no condition to actually follow through without hurting her. Gods knew that he'd left the hook on and done enough damage with that in his more coherent states. So he sagged against her, letting her feet touch the floor, his head pressed against hers, as he swayed.

He was feeling the ebb and flow of the ocean more acutely than before, and his knees kept going squishy, like oysters cushioning the bones. He had his hook at the small of her back, his hand pawing at her cheek, (checking for tears, subconsciously, he didn't want to see, but he needed to know) tenderly touching and testing the smoothness of her skin.

"Oh." was all she seemed to be able to articulate. A win for him.

"Thassall." He breathed, kissed her brow, held her to him for just a little longer with his mouth unable to stop laying gentle pecks against her forehead and temples. "S'all I fergot. I'll- I'll leeve now." he took his hook away, flailed blindly, dug it into the door and forcibly pulled himself away from her, his mouth wanting to linger against her cheek.

He didn't look at her as he moved away, he only stumbled brokenly to one side, thankful that his hook was dug in the wood enough that he stayed mostly upright.

"Wait." she put her hands around his bicep, halting him, though she could've done that with a feather. "Hang on a second. You're just going to kiss me like that and walk away?"

"I'ma try'n walk, dunno 'f 'm achually 'bout t' git anywhere." he raised sheepish eyes to her face. "'R' you mad at me?"

"Mad?" she repeated politely. "Not at all. I'm furious."

He made an unhappy noise instead of making words.

"You tried to lock me in here." she said sternly. "And then you had me on that bed-"

"I di'n achually have you!" was his mortified defense. "You's - You were - skwirmin', 'n' I di'n wanna hurt chu so's I juss... I juss had t' hold you back, a lil' bit, I din' _have_ you..."

"Wow." was all she said, before crouching to his height. "You're really drunk."

"Not drunk," he said with a wide, raunchy grin. "Woman!" and then, he cackled.

"You scared me today." she told him, which made him flinch, his chin dimpling. "When you put me on the bed. I was very scared."

"I din' meen it."

"I know that now." she tucked her hair behind her ears, studying each of his eyes individually. "Rumplestiltskin never once did that to me. He locked me up and he took me by the arm, but he never did something like that."

"I," he said it loudly enough to make both of them cringe from the volume. "I am not- Rumpleshitskin. I am not-" he hiccuped.

"A munsturrr."

"Neither is he." she replied patiently, and sat down. His eyes went wide as she took the robe from her body, revealing the red dress underneath. She maneuvered the gown over her legs and waist before he could see anything too provocative, but still, the dip at her chest and the color of the gown alone was enough to make his mouth pop open.

"Don't get excited." she advised him. "This is all that is coming off."

"Shame." he said, then blinked and tried to backtrack. "I- din mean to say that ou' loud... 'M drunk."

"I know." she nodded and propped her head up on her hands, elbows to her knees. "You have a lot of hate for him."

"Yeah, so?"

"So... What happened?"

He blanched. What feminine trickery was this? His mouth had moved to make out the words '_Milah, is what happened_', but his teeth had thankfully rebelled against wanting to part. So all she got out of him was something slurred and lisped, something that didn't sound like anything.

"I fell in love." he corrected bitterly, his head lolling to the side, eyes trained on her face. "An'... he killed her. Tha's it. The big shtory. He killed my..."

"Milah?" she guessed, and nodded to his forearm. "I saw that a few weeks ago. I was told not to ask."

"Meeellaah." he agreed, and slumped into a mess of sad, scowly pirate.

She watched him for about thirty seconds, then deflated all her angry and moved to help him into sitting, propping him up with her own body. He put his hooked arm around her shoulders to have her even closer, his hand going behind her knee to pull her legs over his lap.

He wanted to grin and say something manly to better protect his pride, but in reality he just wanted to have her close.

"Tell me." he prompted with a loud swallow. "What essactly you shee in him... Makes someun like you... say it's love."

"Oh no. I'm not speaking to you. Especially about him. Particularly when you're like this."

"Now who's runnin' away from th' promblems?" he raised lazy brows at her, watching her facial expressions morph into something painful through half lidded eyes. "I'm drrrunk 'nuff t' prolly ferget by the morn neeway. I'll juss lissen. Shwear." he promised.

She took her damn time deciding whether or not he could be trusted to keep the oath, but when he neither pestered nor prodded her, she figured he was good for it. She was timid, at first, thinking he would chastise her, but he didn't, he nodded when she paused for breath and said nothing.

She explained how she had been engaged - who exactly Gaston was, what he was like, how she'd simply agreed to the marriage because her father wanted her to be secure.

How doing brave things with the hope that bravery would follow had been something she lived by, more so than any religion. How that was the ultimate thing that guided her when Rumplestiltskin came for her.

She went over the main things about the man, the quirks he had, the way he was never actually cruel to her. The jokes he played, how child like and highly energized he was, how he was confused by her honesty and tenderness, even in the beginning. How he gave her a rose and caught her when she fell, shared her love of tea, and gave her pretty things when he thought she wasn't paying attention, gave her the library as her own when he found out her love of literature.

She did love him, he realized. She spoke with the same reverence as he thought of Milah.

"Belle?"

"Mm?" She tried to be warm, light hearted, but she came out sounding strangled.

"You o'right, luv?"

She flushed at the name, sent him a pretty, but wobbly, smile. For a long second, she gazed at the flames in the fireplace, her eyes dull and sad when she turned back to him. He studied the slope of her spine and reached out, pressing a kiss on her hairline.

She just looked back at him, those doe eyes sorrowful and hurt and moreover, lonely.

"Why do you keep kissing me?" she asked timidly.

"Kissin' you bett'r?" his smirk was only half malicious. "Innit tha' what you do when someone's hurtin'? Kiss th' hurt away?"

"Maybe for children with scraped knees." she said thickly, as if speaking underwater.

"It s'all I know how t' do, is kissin'. I dunno what t' say, make it bett'r for ye."

"It's-... It's alright. I just... No one has ever been, as affectionate, with me." she paused, pulling her knees up to her chest and leaning her head to his shoulder. "You're not all bad, Killian Jones."

"Heh." was all he replied to that.

She was losing herself in dark memories in the silence that followed, while he leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes, half unconscious, so when she next spoke, he completely missed what she said and made a grunting noise that may have been a frustrated: "What?"

"Do you still love her?" she whispered again. "Your Milah?"

"Aye." He didn't realize his voice had gone so hoarse. Or that his arm had tightened on her slender shoulder, until there were thin fingers gently prying it from her person. She held his one hand in both of hers, smoothing out the tension with the upmost care. "I do. I luv 'er still."

"Do you think you'll love her forever?" she asked the back of his hand.

"I know I will." he was so sure. Milah was more in him than just a tattoo - she was eternal, the first slice of a better life. She'd cut him deep, in ways he hadn't realized, until she was gone.

He'd put her ring on a length of satin and tied it twice around her wrist before he had her put into the water. He was so blinded by rage he thought he might try and keep her if he watched her body bounce over the waves. As it stood, his men had called her theirs as much as he had called her his - Laurence barely spoken for weeks and Will had cried in the crow's nest for days, when he thought they didn't hear him.

Dunce and Peg-Leg had come on a month after she'd died, and they'd then commented on the heaviness hanging over the ship. It was Mr. Smee who handled the delicacy of explaining who and what Milah was.

"It's wonderful," Belle's gentle voice broke his dark musings the same way a feather might knock over tons of precariously balanced stones. "To have that kind of love in you, isn't it?"

"'Till it s'not." He muttered.

She took a long breath in, raised her eyes to his, her hands closing around his with the firm grip of a woman in desperate need of physical contact. For a second, the light in her eyes had burned so brightly he'd thought it was venom. But it wasn't, nothing so horrible could run in her.

_She isn't capable of it. _

"He- He was-..." she faltered, looked at his hand. "I know it, in my bones that... It's-...He was-..."

"He woz th'... one, ye, ye thought 'e woz yer..." He murmured. He broke her grip, turned her face up to his. "Ee's not, luv. Ee's a - a coward... 'n' a thief. He shteals - snatches - h'arts fer a livin', Belle."

He adjusted his hand so he cupped her cheek. If he had two he'd be shaking some sense into her, but as it stood, he had one hand, and a hook he kept out of her sight.

"He's not all bad, either." She protested.

"Ee's bad 'nuff." He shot back, staring unblinkingly into her face. "Why d' you think I know wot it is t' lose that kind o' love? True 'n' proper 'n' real? Now ee's reshponshiboo fer th' both o' us, broken harts we arr. Only my... Milah, my Meellaaahh... Ee took her h'art, reached int' 'er chest 'n' put 'is filthy 'and 'round 'er still beatin' h'art 'n' he yanked it out 'n' he juss crushed it, rite in front o' me, killed my Milah -"

"Killian." She whispered, moving onto her knees to pull his ear to her chest. He didn't even struggle, he went lax, all the tension leaking out of him. "I am so, so sorry, Killian."

He could hear her heart beating, thump-thumping under his ear, as he wound both arms around her waist and inhaled her scent, trying very hard not to cry. He had privately cried over Milah many times, gotten drunk enough to mutter her name into the throats of women who only kind of looked like her, but never sober, never really let go enough to do it.

"Killian," she was saying into his hair. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wish I could fix it. I wish I could take away that pain for you."

"Wouldn't let you, luv." He moved his head up, scratching her with his stubble, never taking his ear from her heart. "It'd ruin you. Yer too lovely fer all this... Nasty."

"You're not nasty."

"M' innards, are." And he proceeded to jab himself in the gut with his hook to demonstrate his point.

"Now you're being silly." she caught his wrist. "Nasty innards don't throw themselves overboard to save drowning girls."

Her thumbs worked over his cheeks - he closed his eyes and let her tend him, so carefully, as though he were something fragile. He hadn't realized he was crying until she dabbed his tears with his dressing gown sleeve, and moped up her own much more roughly. His arms had tightened around her when she meant to turn away and hide her face; she just sighed, hid her face in his shoulder instead. Her throat was bare before him, and he couldn't help but want to taste it, though he hid that urge under many, many layers and years of missing Milah.

He didn't want to let her go, and had the idea in his head that she just wanted to be held. She was trembling, delicate and feminine.

_When was the last time you did something nice for a girl so sweet, Jones? _

Part of him was rolling his eyes at himself, really. But the other wasn't so keen to let this little body away.

"O'rite, lass." he said calmly, smoothing his hand over the back of her head. "It's-...'M not gonna let neethin' bad 'appen t' ye. Neether o' us. Wee'll be o'rite."

Somehow, she allowed herself to be maneuvered into sitting with her legs threaded over and under his, and he leaned against the wall, tucking her up under his chin for the both of their comfort. His hook dragged the dressing gown over the both of them, and he held her as carefully as he would a newborn, with full intentions of returning to bed in just a few minutes.


	15. Chapter 15

More to come later today, I'm in a mood.

Also, I know I said I'd finished the story, but sometime during editing I started filling out bits and pieces, so there's a lot more story to come. Not exactly sure how it's going to be received, but I know for sure that it's getting bumped up to M!

Aude

xx

* * *

It was uncomfortable to sleep sitting up, but he'd be damned if he hadn't slept so well in ages. His dreams were kept mild and guilt-free, and her scent woke him more gently than say, Windy Joe cocking his leg and letting one rip - which was, of course, his wake up call, every dy for the last three weeks.

He yawned, rolled the taste of heavy sleep and old alcohol around his tongue, and was delighted to find that the little red dress had shifted, revealing an ample amount of chest and legs.

He smoothed the dress down her leg, and the skirt hem that had bunched up to her hip, lingering on her bare skin. She was warm, and smooth, and he thumbed at her with a lazy grin.

There was something exhilarating about touching nobility at the best of times, let alone when she was sound asleep.

He made an appreciative humming noise, got a good look in before easing the gown up to her chin. His hand pressed against the tight folds of her bodice, her slowly inflating ribs and steady heartbeat, squeezing her waist in his hand. He pulled back in case she woke, not wanting her wrath, only her trust.

The way his plan was going now, she'd tell him everything that she knew about Rumplestiltskin, all because of a little liquid courage and a passionate kiss. And hopefully, just maybe, she would fall for him in the process and make the crocodile's hurt double tenfold.

One kiss, and she was practically throwing herself into his arms. He felt a momentary pang of regret for those who he had not yet kissed. It was a service to womankind, honestly.

"Belle."

She didn't stir.

"Belle, lass," he tipped her head slightly to see her eyes crinkling. "Come on, darling. Wake up."

He was still a little drunk, head still pleasantly swimming. One of those bright eyes opened, the lashes dark against her cheek. She seemed dazed, still partially dreaming, as she looked up. The other blue orb was revealed to him, the pupil blown wide.

"What are we doing?" she sounded so (and this was not a word often in his sober vocabulary), _cute_. She lifted a hand to rub her eyes, hiding the blue, flinching against movement.

"Sleeping on the floor." he said roughly, and grinned. He patted her head, stretched while still holding her, much more cramped than he'd realised, his spine popping loudly. She was in much the same state, and was quick to realize it with a mumbled:

"_Everything_ hurts."

He chuckled as she moved away, righting her dress under the dressing gown before getting onto her feet, swaying slightly. She massaged her neck, still more asleep than awake, so his blatant stare at her bare legs went unnoticed. She sighed, and made him avert his eyes to her face. He knuckled at one absently, grinning sleepily.

"You've got, er, smudges, around your eyes." she said, looking cheeky.

"It's charcoal." he acknowledged. "The glare on the water runs my eyes to ruin, if I'm not careful."

"Oh, yes, of course." she agreed just a little too heartily. She ducked her head to hide the smile, but she couldn't hide the laugh.

"It's not makeup." he assured her.

"No, it just looks very pretty."

"I thought so. Highlights my finer points." he said, completely droll, but enjoying the banter. She let the giggles run out of her quietly, and he smirked at the lightness of the sound before he went ahead and opened his mouth. "It's still early. Not many should be awake as I leave. Even if they are, I'll silence any rumours."

"So good of you, Captain." she said, very amused, and sat heavily on the bed, watching him attempt his own feet, though he swayed dangerously to one side before he was right way up. His arm flexed, and he shook out the needles and pins that attacked him.

"How much do you remember?" she asked the back of his head.

He didn't. Not alot. But it would come back by dinner, otherwise it wouldn't come back at all.

"Nothing. Why?" he grinned, looking over his shoudler with a hand on the door. "Did I vomit someplace I shouldn't of?"

"Not at all." she said, tired, rubbing her heel of her palm against her eyes.

"Was there any nakedness involved?"

"Not bloody likely."

"Hmph." he scowled at the readiness of the denial. "Any... interesting choices of conversation?"

"That depends entirely on what you define as interesting." she said, and smiled brightly. "Now, if you wouldn't mind, I'm tired."

"Well, I know when I'm not wanted." he huffed, rubbed his shoulder. "Sleep easy, Belle."

"You too."

He let himself out, pondering why there seemed to be scratches from his hook beside the frame on either side.

* * *

He didn't remember all, but he remembered enough. After a decent upchuck and eating nearly his entire weight in the rations the four pirates had left behind, he took to his hammock and thought about what happened for the rest of the morning.

The kiss.

The story of how she fell in love - and how the crocodile was clearly fond of her too, if what she told him was anything to go by. Having cried over Milah to another woman.

That hurt his ego, a little bit, but strangely felt quite liberating, like swimming naked.

Exposing, but free.

He remembered listening to her heart beat, the way it soothed him. The way she'd cried for his pain just as much as her own. He remembered dozing off, drawing little shapes on her dress, pressing random kisses on whatever part of her he could reach.

So he simply refrained from remembering - though twice more he had sudden visions of things said and done, little things like the noises she made into his mouth or how her hands hadn't pushed him away.

Yes, Killian Jones was many things, and one of those things was completely irresistable to anyone fond of the male gender. He was well aware, thank you very much.

She was growing more and more _fond _of him, just like he knew she would have to, eventually. He had been having slight doubts, with all her gallivanting about around men like Smith and Laurence - but ultimately, the affections he'd shown her had won her more in one night than they'd managed in three weeks.

A god, in pirate's clothes.

Belle would have to tell him more, now, about Rumplestiltskin, and she would let something slip as to his demise, or she would give her heart over so he could one-up the crocodile _again_.

She was helping around the ship, making up for the four lost men; having pulled on some more of his clothes and skipped around with Willhelm and Dunce, busted lip be damned, she smiled wide and bright and happy as she did what she could with knots and ropes and sails.

He watched her out the corner of his eye half of the day he was above deck, making sure the other men boded no ill-will, and most didn't, or hid it, as Smith sent a few threatening glares their direction. A few times he was caught watching her, but she just smiled and ducked her head, going back about whatever chore she was doing.

He waited until it was nearing nightfall before calling her up. Without a word he put both of her hands on the wheel and stood behind her.

"Uh, Captain...?"

"This is a far sight easier than what you've been doing all day, lass. Hurt, don't you?"

"Everywhere." she agreed sheepishly. "It wasn't so bad in the morning, but... now it is."

"It'll be worse tomorrow. Talk to Laurence about something to rub into your muscles or you won't last an hour tomorrow. That's no chauvinism - the same goes for the rest of us. You've been working hard." he paced around, eyeing her blue jaw and bloodied scab. "How's the lip?"

"Throbbing." but her smile continued to shine past the injury. "Laurie says it's fine."

He'd be having a word to 'Laurie' about what exactly he called 'fine'.

"We've got to stop a night in Riverrun." he motioned absently to a sail with his hook. "That needs mending, and while I'm sure you've been taught to darn, I wouldn't ask you to try your hand at several metres worth of sail repairs. We'll spend the night in the tavern - don't expect to sleep unless we manage a place of our own. The city is full of war and poverty, so don't be surprised by it while we're there."

She nodded, with a small smile.

"The good news is, with the sail fixed we should make excellent time to your castle." he let that sink in for a beat. "Want to explain to me why you've been dancing from starboard to port all morning?"

"Do I need a reason?" she asked politely, peering through the wheel at him. "Do you remember much from your... Binge?"

"Most of what I remember is smudged. I remember going to your room." _My cabin_. "I don't know what happened after that, only sitting on the floor, talking to you. What about is... gritty."

"How odd." she scrutinized him, seeing straight through the careful navigation over what he actually did recall. "I seem to have conveniently misplaced my memory, too."

His grin was raunchy, and barked a laugh that made her flush but meet his stare.

"Sorry if I kissed you senseless, then."

"I can't honestly say I minded." She said brightly, and left him to ponder that, alone by the wheel, which started to turn of it's own accord.


	16. Chapter 16

Belle was in a weird headspace. Her heart longed for Rum, her head was telling her that he was the one whose cowardice and panic told her to leave, tossed her in a dungeon for a night after professing her love for him. He'd hurt her arm, hurt her heart, and then left her alone.

And Killian... Killian had saved her from the Queen, and while he clearly hated the idea of her loving Rum - no wonder why, if he'd killed his lady love - he'd taken her under his wing, been nothing but protective over her since she stepped on board. Although he'd tried to put her in a corner and had scared the breath out of her, he'd let her fight with him, throw a tantrum of which she wasn't proud of.

But any other man she'd known would've just told her she was losing her head because she was a woman, and left her to calm down before putting down the whole thing to him knowing better, because he had a penis.

And then that kiss...

There were kisses, like the ones she had shared with Rum, filled with tentative care and absolute love. The kisses she had with Gaston were desperate on his behalf and frigid on hers - and then there were the kisses she'd seen on her small venture out to the whore houses, with tongue and teeth and raw, rabid desire.

The kiss with Killian was all of these things. And she'd_ liked_ it.

Which was confusing in itself, though she'd rationalised with a 'why not, he's drunk'. If that was taking advantage, then she'd done it; but he certainly hadn't complained, and she hadn't protested. She loved Rumplestiltskin, but she was a creature of passion, and Killian was too.

She tried to tell herself it wouldn't be happening again, but everytime she did, it made her stomach clench.

"He's a hot-tempered, untamed, whore of a captain, I should definitely stay away." she said abruptly, looking up from her cards. Phil, Kong, Dunce and Peggy - they'd keep their tongues, she was certain. They'd retired to poker behind the hammocks, a place where no men passed in the middle of the day.

"Absolutely." Kong said with a snort, not even bothering to look at her. "Take up with me, darling, I can show you the world."

"He speaks twelve languages." Dunce piped up, setting his cards down. "Kong could really show you the world. He's real tough and he can fight good, and come on, innit he pretty-?"

"Oi, should I be concerned?" Peg-leg gruffed, shooting his spouse a dirty look. "What are you doin', selling the man?"

"I'm just sayin'." he grinned cheekily, patted the man's shoulder. "For Belle. Not for me."

"You'd break him." was the grumbled thought, before the man threw two cards down and picked two up from Phil, who was thin lipped, biting back words.

"What?" she asked with a wince.

"Oh, nothing." but there was something, because they only had to wait about two seconds before he tossed his cards down and shook his finger at her. "_You are too good for him_."

"Not this again." she picked up three cards, all of which added up to nothing in her hand, and dropped them with a depressed huff.

She just couldn't win.

"No. I don't mean you're out of his league. That man is in a league of his own. He wants you and he's sure he's gonna get you, and there ain't nothin' you can do to change his mind. He sees a challenge and it's like a red flag to a bull. What I'm sayin' - what none of you scumbags wouldn't disagree with - is that you are, in the most literal sense of the word, _too good."_

"Why're we scumabags, now?" Kong mused, flicking a bronze piece into the pot.

"You're bright. And you're honest. And you love too easily. You're a smart girl, you learn fast, and you're beautiful and noble. He is nearly opposite of you in every way." he took his finger from wagging in her face, folding his arms grumpily over his chest. "I knew this would happen. I knew he'd hook you."

"He hasn't hooked me." she said in a moderate defence. "I said I should stay away."

"You were looking to be told. Not that'll do much good." Phil gave her an intense look. "I've written ballads with less obvious endings. And you know me. I'm upfront in the title, so you know what to expect."

"The Waterfall Death."

"The Kiss Under Moonlight."

"Beheading of the Hatter."

Belle just snorted, because not one of the pirates - even the slow one - had missed a beat in listing some of his more upfront titles, all of them exactly the way you'd imagine them to go.

"And what do you expect, wordsmith?" she said, amused, as Kong collected his winnnings and gave her the deck of cards to shuffle.

"I expect you and him to get involved, him to move back into his cabin, you to lose your innocence and never want to leave the ship. I expect you'll either get pregnant and he'll drop you off at your castle - or thereabouts, to give himself a head start - or he'll turn you into a harlot and drop you at the next port where you'll run yourself to further ruin. I don't believe that he's going to look after you like you seem to think he is."

"I expect nothing of the sort." she said carefully. "I expect he's going to try and bed me. Though I don't know why you've so little faith in my ability to say no."

"You can say no all you like." he said flatly. "Your body will say yes. He'll listen. You won't even struggle."

Belle sighed, put her hand on his forearm.

"I'm not going to let him bed me, Phil." she said gently. "I was hardly ready for the love of my life to do so, let alone the betrothed before him. Killian Jones is many things, but convincingly innocent, he is not." she made a motion at her face, scrunching it up.

"He seems to think if he widens his eyes he looks sweet as honey. I think he looks mortified."

"You'd know what honest innocence looks like." Dunce said, beaming fondly at her. "You're honestly innocent, and sweet."

"You're a flatterer after my heart." she accused with a smile at him. He was clearly inflated by the praise, and laughed gleefully, leaning into Peg-Leg's side. He was promptly shoved away.

"I know something has got to give but-" she rose a smooth brow. "It won't be me."

"It will. He'll do it in such a way you'll think you've won, when you haven't." Phil was scowling now, not even bothering to pick up his cards. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Warn you off what?" mused the devil himself, trotting down the stairs. He looked directly at Dunce, who was looking guiltily and guiltier by the second. "Dunce, lad, what're you talking about?"

"Oh, nothin', Cap." Peg-Leg coughed. "Phil 'n' Belle were discussin'-"

"Flower arrangements." Kong supplied, sighing at his dismal hand. "I may have mentioned the ones from home, and they've since been talking of the intricacies of the meanings behind what certain flowers say."

Dunce opened his mouth but Peg-Leg pulled him roughly to his side, getting up and dragging him along.

"C'mon, mate, let's take a turn about the hull, hm? I'm gettin' stiff over here."

"I hope that's not crude innuendo in front of our lady." Phil drawled.

"As opposed to coupling wildflowers and the stems of roses, Phil Coulson?" Belle chided. "I'm not made of glass. I have been on this vessel for the better part of a month now."

Peg-Leg jerked the nervously squirming Dunce past the Captain, who was watching the sheepish man trundle past. He waited until they were both up the stairs, before he turned around to the table now only three in number and heartily discussing flowers.

"I'm fond of roses, myself." he drawled, taking Dunce's vacated seat, and his dismissed hand. "Red roses. Passion."

"Which is why you shouldn't give a woman roses." Belle said easily, dropping only one card, picking up the other, arranging it in her hand before sliding them shut and putting them face down in a neat stack.

"Why not?" he had a full house, Dunce had nearly thrown away a decent hand. Of course, he didn't actually know how to play cards, Peg-Leg usually looked after him when he was allowed his own hand and money.

"Because flowers are for courting, not one night flings."

"My courting _is_ for one night flings."

"So why waste money on roses?"

"I don't waste any money on anything. I steal them." he cocked a brow at her, carefully avoiding his eyes. "You lot were talking nasty about me. I haven't seen Dunce so anxious since the David incident."

Belle looked up calmly, the men continued to play poker.

"David incident?"

"Man named David came aboard. Saw Dunce was slow. Made him help steal from my cabin and then made him swear not to say anything. Read him like a book, kind of like I did just now. What was there to say about me this time?"

"I was the one talking." she said smoothly, folding her hands over her cards. "I said I should stay away from you because you're a hot-tempered man whore."

"You forgot justly talented, before manwhore." he said easily. "If you wanted to stay away, all you had to do was say the words: 'Stay away from me and my virtue, Killian.' I wouldn't force myself upon you, darling."

"Told you." Phil muttered, then folded his cards and pocketed his money. "I'm off for a turn about the hull." and he sent a pointed look at Kong to join him, but the man showed his cards. Phil just went on his way without another word, only a displeased grunt.

"Told you what?" he mused. "Go on, what'd he say?"

"Said you wouldn't force yourself on her, just make her want it." Kong offered, and put down his cards. "Three kings."

"Aces and queens." Killian said, and went to take the pot, when Belle's hand cut him off. She flipped over her cards.

"High straight, hearts." she said with a flutter of her lashes, and collected her winnings, pulling them into her other hand, she got to her feet.

"Where're you going?" the Captain mused. "Come on, now, love, you just won your first honest game. Let's have another round or two."

"I'm saving this money for Riverrun." she said easily. "Buy a souvenir for my papa. Besides, all the action seems to be taking a turn about the hull."

"Then allow me to accompany you." he got to his feet, bowing from the waist, before offering his arm, a proper gentleman.

It only took a second, but apprehension crossed her face, before that same calm, casual look, and she accepted it, allowing herself to be lead up the stairs and into the sunlight. They were of course, stared at and whistled at and generally made fun of until it died down - she made a face at Phil, wh just shook his head at her.

Kong took to hanging about the ropes with Will, before the lad had a chance to come down and ruin whatever mounting tension had happened between them both.

"You didn't seem to be displeased in my company earlier." he mentioned, taking her to the tip of his ship, showing her the sights.

"I wasn't, and am not, now."

"Lying isn't becoming of a princess."

"I'm not a princess." she said with a small smile.

"You behave like one."

"And how many princesses have you known, exactly?"

"Four. And I've bedded them all."

"So I'm the next notch in your bedpost, then?"

"Hardly. I notch my belt, the bedhead is imported."

They'd been having a pleasantly toned conversation. It was of nothing pleasant, but the way they spoke was easy and simple and she was looking out at the beauty of the open ocean, the colours of the sky, the way the horizon blended into the sea.

"You're not getting me, Killian." her voice was a purr, but a dangerous sounding one. "You can kiss me all you like, my lips are bruised and cut and vulnerable. My heart, however, belongs to another man. My body, on top of that, is not ready."

_I could ready you plenty. I could steal your heart._

"Perhaps there's more to it than just your heart." he shrugged one shoulder. "Speaking as a man who's bedded many a woman-"

"Speaking as a man." she repeated, nodding. "That seems to be the problem."

"I wasn't aware there was a problem."

She looked at him, lips swollen, cut and blue. She tipped her head, scrutinized his face, eyes going soft.

"I don't know what your angle is on this," she said carefully. "Keeping me on board. But I'm likely to put the pieces together-"

"Keeping you," he turned to face her. She withdrew her hand from his arm. "I'm sorry, but, '_keeping you_'? I'm doing you a favour."

"For what purpose?"

"Because you're a damsel in distress and I'm all about good form?"

"Right. Just as the first words out of your mouth whilst kidnapping me from the Queen were about Rum and how he could be killed."

"Kidnapping you?" he frowned. "You seem to have a twisted way of thinking about things, lass. I was rescuing you."

"Again, I'll ask, for what purpose?" she narrowed her eyes slightly on him.

He studied her face, the softness in her eyes. She was onto him, caught his scent. But she wasn't angry, she had apparently been waiting for the penny to drop.

"You think I mean you harm, princess?"

"I am not a princess. And no, I don't think that you mean me any physical harm."

"And what harm do you think will come to you? Have I done anything untoward the entire time you were here?"

"You know you have."

"Then you deserved it."

"I don't think so."

"Well I know so." he said sharply. "You might not be used to blunt honesty, princess, but that is how I run a ship and if you don't like it, you can-..." but he didn't want her to leave. Couldn't make himself even threaten her with it.

"You keep calling me princess. Why don't you start treating me like one?"

"Like a delicate flower?" he sneered.

"I was leaning more to the side of _respect_."

"And I don't respect you?" he barked a nasty laugh. "Are you out of your wits, woman? Did Adam knock your sense out of you?"

She went still then, her eyes hardened.

"He must've." she said tightly. "Because all I can think of doing is hitting you square in the mouth, Killian Jones."

"That'd be stupid of you."

It was apparently the final straw.

"_You're stupid_!" She threw a fist but he stepped back to avoid it, catching her elbow and pulling her off balance. She stumbled, falling mostly against him, and he let her catch her feet and wrench away.

"I think," he said between his teeth. "You need to walk away."

"And what? Calm my pretty head about it?" she threw up her hands at him. "Of course, I'm a stupid little girl, I don't know a damn thing I'm saying, do I?"

"Walk away, woman."

"_Make me_." she bit out, and almost instantly regretted it, taking quick steps back.

"Have it your way, then."

She swung another fist, feinting to the temple before an uppercut aimed under his jaw. He caught her arm, she spun and ducked under it, making him lose his grip. Her shoulder shoved him in the solar plexus - he grunted, hooked the back of her shirt and yanked her clear off her feet.

"Bad form." he told her, and dragged her to the stairs. He pulled her up into standing and made her stumble down the stairs, before she struggled around and unhooked her shirt. He hooked her belt - she stomped on his instep, which hurt like a bitch and made him pull her back up against his chest, kicking out at nothing.

"I'm not a child!"

"I'm aware."

"Then why are you separating me like I'm a difficult child?!"

"Because you're _being _difficult."

He tossed her down, but she bounced right back up and tackled him about the waist. Not expecting this, he stumbled back, where she tripped and followed him down with a loud 'Oomph!' She struggled to get her groundings, putting a hand either side of his chest - he put his knees into her ribs and twisted, throwing her off centre, to the side, rolling with the momentum, so he was sitting astride her stomach.

Her hands faliled and hit at his thighs, which he caught in one hand and couldn't help but laugh at her bewildered expression.

"Enough. C'mon. Enough of this." he tried to put a stopper on his grin, though it didn't work. "I shouldn't do this to you. I won't. You're right, you're not a child."

"No I'm not!" she bit back, and her hands stopped sturggling in his. He let her go, where she shoved at his stomach. "Now get off of me."

"Promise me you're not going to swing at me again."

"I'll promise you _nothing_!"

"Well then I'll just wait out the tantrum. I've ridden more furious waves than yours."

She groaned, hid her face in her hands.

"You're insufferable!" she muffled the words.

"I happen to think I can be suffered through." he mused, and folded his arms.

"Alright- Alright! I promise!" she shoved at him again, her usually lovely face blotched with rage. He waited a moment, then lifted his leg and rolled off, giving her a hand to her feet, where she promptly pushed him in the shoudler for good mesure and dusted off her backside.

"Have you finished your tantrum, princess?"

She swung and caught him right in the cheekbone, striding out of the room in her self righteous way. He held his face, scowled, and followed her out, to see Smith and Laurence strategically flanking either side of her.

"You promised." he said sharply.

"I lied." she shot back. "Call me princess again." she dared him with all the wrath of a woman well scorned.

"Princess!"

"And you steer a _boat_."

"It's a ship!"

"Boat is to Ship as Royalty is to Nobility." she pursed her lips, raised both brows at him. "Are we at an understanding?"

He flicked his eyes from one man to another, all swarmed around her, some amused, some protective. He rubbed his face - that was going to leave a mark on him, for sure - and scowled at her, so sure of herself between the two biggest men. Sure, she'd throw a hit and then retreat to men who'd defend her without her asking. Of course she would. And as for promising him no more hitting and then out rightly telling him she was lying, clearly there was more pirate in her than he'd ever expected.

He straightened. Shot off a growled curse, raised his hook to her face.

"You," he said, and shook the hook. "Are more a pirate than a princess, anyway."

"I wish I could say the same for you." she retorted. "Are you quite finished?"

"Are you?" he motioned to his face. "You said you wouldn't hit me!"

"You were twisting a knife you shouldn't have."

"My social conventions are very different to yours," he growled. "But it's still bad form to make a promise and then break it, no matter where you come from!"

"Then you should've been more specific in what you made me promise." she shot off, the colour bright in her cheeks. She had fisted hands, a low brow. She was shaking, furious, on the offence as a defence.

He thought back to what had happened. He'd topped her, again. He didn't know why he kept ending up in that position, but it seemed to provoke more feminine sensibilities that he could only understand as far as she feared him forcing himself upon her. Which annoyed him, greatly, but he understood. Thus, he deflated, and rubbed his cheek with his knuckles.

"Right." he said thoughtfully, and walked forward. He ignored the both men, Smith and how he moved to standing, and stuck out his hand, only for Belle. "No more hitting me. And I won't get you under me without your permission."

"You're actually that full of yourself?" both her brows rose.

He offered the hand again.

"I've an entirely real perception of myself, love. Shake on it."

She stuck her hand in his.

"I promise not to strike you any more, on the proviso you don't-... do that."

"Was that so hard?" he mused.

"Hard enough." she shot back, but couldn't hide her small, victorious smile.

"Now kiss." Dunce said happily, to receive a cuff on the back of the head from his soul mate.


	17. Chapter 17

They hit Riverrun and could feel tension in the air. Riverrun was known for the wars for the throne, and their sailing supplies, not for the ambiance of it's villages. They'd set up in a near empty tavern, Belle keeping close to Dunce and Peggy, who had spent a few months in the town and knew how to navigate the people.

Killian was watching her from his dark corner, foot propped up on a chair, hook balanced on one knee. His drink was in a glass, supplied to him in good faith from the bar keep. Never mind he'd already finished his flask, and consumed a bottle of wine, to boot, he kept drinking, enjoying numbness in his extremities.

It had been a long day.

* * *

"Killian?"

He'd just lifted a perfumed scarf to his nose, something pretty and floral, charmed to keep it's scent no matter how often one wore it. It was, of course, for a female. He realized who he was inadvertently shopping for and put it down, turning to see who called for him.

"Goldilocks." he gave her a long once over. A lot of things could change in a few weeks. It'd been months since he'd taken her powders and told her of his plan to steal a prized treasure away from the Queen, but in those few months she'd changed. Her hair was golden rope on the top of her head - she walked about in tight black clothes, a dagger on one hip and a short sword on the other. She had a fading bruise on her collar bone, but her smile was wide and only for him.

"What brings you to Riverrun?" she walked over, gave him a kiss hello.

"I'm on my way to dropping off that prize I took from the Queen." he bared all his teeth in a grin. "All due thanks to you, of course."

She laughed prettily, still abashed by his attentions.

"Only in return for your being a hero, saving my virtue and all."

"I distinctly remember saving that virtue, all for myself." he purred, and she blushed, shyly turning her head down. "But tell me, what brings you to this place?"

"Love." she said with the dreamy smile of a woman well won. "His name is Theodore. I call him Teddy - he was around here, somewhere. I must say, Killian, you look a little... Different." she scrutinized him, politely enough, as if trying to figure out what had changed.

"I'm vastly hung over." he drawled. "I realize I'm not my best, thanks, lass."

"No, no, it's not that. Something internal." she brightened, it seemed, from the inside out. "Have you found a girl, Mr. Pirate Captain?"

He shrugged.

"You could say that."

"And have you swept her off her feet?"

"I'm _getting_ there."

"You sound so droll?"

He rolled his eyes.

"She doesn't let me sleep in my own bed, I've been chastised for mere tricks of my trade - she's stubborn, sharp tongued, doesn't sit still for longer than a minute at any given time-" _and likes to hit me, in the face._ "I'm droll because she's a painful habit to be had and I'm rightfully sick of her."

"Well, if she's held out longer than a few hours, she's a stronger woman than I. I remember kicking you out of my bed after, what was it, two days...? You're insatiable." she grinned, sent him a wink, and patted his arm fondly, as if it were a charming childhood memory he'd bought to the surface of her mind. "Listen, I need to find my man and get us home for dinner, but if you're going to stick around, you're welcome to drop by?"

"I couldn't impose." he took her hand and kissed the knuckles, lingering a moment more than proper. "You just be with your Teddy, there. I wish you luck."

"Who needs luck, when you're in love?"

* * *

_You look a little... different._

_ Something internal._

Those words had annoyed him all damn day. So he took to sulking. And drinking. Lots, and lots of drinking.

"She's not as keen on you as you'd like to think." Phil said, plopping down next to him. "Belle. She's not keen on you, at all."

"Thank you, for that." Killian drawled, taking another sip of rum. The poet had sustained quite a blow to the back of the head, at the base of his spine, and blamed Adam for it. It had made him spit out a stream of truthes and not a lot of tact in the hours after he had awoken, something that hadn't actually stopped.

"You're fond of her, wordsmith."

"Aye, I am. She's gentle and kind and you're goin' to make a mess of her."

"I'm not." he turned his attention onto the scowling man, who was bleary eyed and rubbing the back of his neck. He pulled a face, legs spread and eyes downcast. "You know what I need of her. Your help would be appreciated, if you want me to go about this the more formal way."

"You're gonna make a mess of her." he repeated. "It's so wrong of you to try and win her heart with full intentions of not giving her yours, as well."

"And you're too romantic for your own good. Has she said anything to you about him?"

"Nothing of use in this plan of yours." he grouched, and rubbed his eyes. "She's in real and true love. The kind you used to know."

"May I remind you that I am your Captain?" he said through his teeth.

The bard recoiled, scoffed, and shifted in his seat.

"You're going to hurt her either way - if she finds out about plan A, you'll kill her man and she loves him, no matter how much you hate him, she does love him."

"I _know_ that."

"And plan B, you're going to win her over and renounce the croc and then what? You're gonna what? The woman loves you then, cap, what're you going to do with her once that's all said and done?"

"Keep her around. It's not as though she's a bother."

"But what do you think is going to come of keeping a princess on a pirate ship?"

"She's not a princess." he retorted, and shifted on his seat. "And you need to remove yourself from the situation. You, Chase and I are the only men who know of the plans, and she isn't talking to me about things, certainly not Chase. She's in your circle and if you get information out of her-"

"There's nothing to get." he said with a sad look at him from under his lashes. "She doesn't know how to kill him. And if she does, she won't give it up, ever. So it looks like you're going to have to make a mess of her."

"I'm not going to make a mess of her!" he snapped, as Laurence joined them. He bit back the various other things that would've sounded oddly to someone unawares of the plan, and took a swig of rum to swallow them back further.

"You like her." Laurence said, digging into his dinner, balanced neatly on his knee. "Otherwise you wouldn't be so defensive of hurting her."

"Naw," Will teased. "Our cap's fallin' in love!"

"I'm not falling into anything." he grunted, and scared the boy into shutting his mouth with a look. He shifted uneasily, cleared his throat, and averted his eyes to his glass.

"No, it's more_... tripping_." Phil said with raised brows.

"Well, we all know what happens when you trip in our crew." Laurence said in his easy, slow voice. "Maybe she's not the only one who'd benefit from loving someone else."

"Yeah, upgrade from a crocodile to a pirate." he drawled. "Such long leaps, for our Belle."

Seeing Laurence, Will and Phil, the lovers and Belle ventured over with drinks in their hands. Killian was surprised to see that Dunce was nursing a half glass of whiskey - but then soothed by Peggy, who wasn't drinking, and could keep an eye on him. He looked grumpy for it, but Dunce was near skipping. Belle was in a very demure lot of clothes, with a thick, shapeless cape and her hair tied up.

"What did you get to buy, lass?" Smith cooed. "You look mighty content with yourself."

She beamed at him, digging around in her coin purse.

"She went and charmed the vendor. Got her price knocked down." Peggy rolled his eyes.

"He's just jealous we had to pay full fare." Dunce said, with a bright eyed grin.

"Too right." Peg-Leg groused, and sat down heavily, rubbing the join between stump and wood. Dunce promptly took his place on his leg, only to be shoved off again with a growled curse. Belle, caught the tipsy man and lead him to a chair, perching on his knees daintily.

"Look." she said, and put aside her wine glass to show them a beautifully painted likeness of the castle of Riverrun, on a proper scale, fitting in the palm of her hand. "It goes white on the tops when it snows, here, so you know when to come by or not. Papa and I were always going to travel here." she said, and allowed the small castle to be passed to Laurence, who dwarfed it in his massive fingers.

Dunce put his hands on her waist and leaned to the side, staring. When the castle came back to them, she showed him, who made all the excited noises he could, whilst swallowing whiskey.

"Ease up." He was scolded, and let the alcohol dribble back out of his mouth and into the glass. "By the gods, Dunce, that's the last drink."

"Belle said I could have some o' her wine. Din' cha, Belle?" he bopped her on her knee, making her almost topple off.

She was caught by Smith, who lifted her and situated her on his own knee, offering her the wine glass.

"I did tell him." she said sheepishly, and accepted the beverage. "It's very nice."

"Drink often, lass?" Smith prodded, sipping from his own tankard.

"Not really. A sip of mead from my own home, but, they make a very sweet mead." she clinked glasses with him, and drank.

"Mind you don't over do yourself." Peggy gruffed. "That's your second glass already. You had hardly anything to eat all day. I'd suggest you limit to that, and no more."

"Naw," Dunce cooed. "Lookit my mate. Takin' care of us. You're the best, Pete, I love you so much."

"Now I know you've had too much." he scolded, and sat back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest.

Kong made use of time by flipping his bullring in and out of his nose, which both horrified and entertained Belle. He admitted to hiding it for all the time she'd known him, because he didn't want her to think him an oddity.

"Yes, because a noblewoman on a ship of pirates, being carried home because of a sour deal with the Dark One, of whom I fell in love with and offended to the point of expulsion, that's the oddest thing I'll encounter." she put her fingertips to her mouth. "Oh. I think I'll just put this down."

And she handed the glass to Smith, who was chuckling behind her.

"Drunk." Dunce called, and shook his head, unprompted. "I'm not drunk."

"Why is that the first thing drunk people say?" Belle mused.

"Are you drunk, Belle?"

"I'm not-... Oh."

They laughed at her. Mr. Smee, who was red cheeked and rather merry on his own red Riverrun wine, hiccuped and planted his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his hand. His beanie was lopsided and his glasses slid down his nose, but he wouldn't let go of his bottle to put them on properly.

"Tell us 'bout court, lady Belle?" he said with a somewhat dreamy sigh. "I never been to court, before. I ain't never been invited. Cap's lead us in an' out of court, but we were on the run."

Killian just shrugged, when she looked his way.

"Well..." she glanced at Phil. "It's not very exciting... There's too much gossip. And... Formalities, every where. You can't sneeze without offending some one, for some reason. There's dancing, but that's about all there is to enjoy, besides the libraries."

"I'd offer to dance," Phil told her mildly. "But I still get awful dizzy when I move too much."

"That, and, you can't dance." Killian mumbled.

"I attended court for half my life, of course I know how to dance. You, on the other hand, cannot speak to me of dancing capabilities."

"I could dance circles around you, poet." Killian drawled.

"You can't dance." Belle scoffed absent mindedly, then blinked at the way his eyebrows shot up at the challenge. "Not anything I'll know. Not- Not courtly, dances. You can't- that's all I meant, I meant, courtly dances. You couldn't."

He got to his feet, extending his hand.

"Care to test that theory?"

Phil picked up the discarded rum and guzzled it, though Laurence was snatching it from his hand a few seconds later.

She seemed nervous. She lifted gracefully, smoothing her hands over her legs, and undoing the clip of the cape, before accepting the hand. Smith folded the heavy garment over the back of his chair with a weary sigh. Dunce hollered for something of popular courtly dancing, and the musicians plucked a new tune.

The music was something slow and made for two step as the one he steered her into. He gazed on her face - she averted her eyes to the floor, watching her feet. He chuckled purely to make her lift her eyes but she didn't. She was keeping time but only just.

Their hands were so close enough that even if they weren't touching, he could feel the heat of her palm. She watched his fingers instead of him as they took their paces around each other. He watched her mouth part and her tongue dart out to wet the red mark on her lip before they swapped hands...and hook.

"You look anxious."

"Dancing is not something I do on a regular basis, let alone with drink in me."

"I'd think a pretty noble such as you would be used to dancing."

She flushed at the compliment.

"I am a notoriously bad dancer."

He pulled her close to his body, hook to the small of her back and hand holding hers. She placed her hand upon his shoulder and looked to Will, startled by his loud, boyish laughter.

"But you apparently are a pretty noble. You didn't deny that."

She sent him a look, then, and he felt victorious at having her eyes on him.

They stepped, stepped, stepped, and spun - he lead her back to him gently, pulling on her fingers and smiling when she came back into place. She had been blinking widely at him as he matched her stride for stride, eliciting coos and whoops from their crew, which dominated most of the bar's patrons.

"I can't do this." she mumbled to him.

"Why?" he ducked so he could see her eyes. "Am I so bad to dance with, milady?"

She smiled but it wasn't real or true, only something to fill the space. She ducked her eyes away, looked up, disengaging from his arms.

"I'm not a good dancer." she announced in a much stronger voice. "I've killed the fun."

"Then we'll speed it up." Dunce said brightly, and swung Peg-Leg out beside them. "Something merry! Come on!"

Peggy was reluctant and red faced while Dunce was nothing but gleeful - Will began his own solo two step tap, Laurence took to singing along in his booming baritone. Belle was spun out and pulled in and caught the stomping and kicking of heels quite quickly - before she knew it, she was out of breath, grinning widely, holding onto Killian for stability as she laughed at the way Smith and one of the other men tried to mock them with dainty moves.

The big blonde bowed at the waist, his left hand curled into a crude looking hook. They made light of the Captain and his passenger for a while more, before the rest of the men had a good drink in them and they were taking up the dancing. They rounded into a circle, arms around shoulders, stomping, then kicking, lifting knees, and turning as a collective circle.

_That grin is absolutely bloody precious._

He was beside her, watching her face, arm around her waist, while they spun and stomped and made merry. She was flushed with a heat under her skin, her chest raising and falling, body shaking with laughter. When the song ended he was sore for the loss - then pulled her back into a fast paced dance, spinning her all around.

She claimed she had to take a break, aching all over, but danced yet with Smith, Laurence and Will, who was a shaking and nervous mess when he put his hand on her waist. She'd had to direct his hand up a few times, but didn't begrudge him for trying. He did bow to her, after all, when she announced she needed to rest upstairs.

Killian jumped to his feet, offered his elbow for her to take. Knowing she was best accompanied everywhere in the forgein land, she accepted it, blowing Kong a kiss that made him swoon. They went up the stairs to the lazy lounge, where there were no doors or walls to separate from the downstairs gallery, just a line of magic soundproofing.

"I'm aching." she moaned with a breathless laugh.

"I'd say you would be." he agreed. "I know I told you not to, but get some rest. We'll keep an eye on you from there." he nodded to where Phil, Laurence and Will were sitting, which could be seen by the first couch. They appeared to be laughing loudly, which ws eerie in the silence of the room.

He kissed her hand with a wide smile, and bid her adieu.

"Killian?"

He turned, surprised, his eyebrows hiked high on his forehead. She was half hidden behind a pillow, as though she was using it as a shield, sheepishly looking at him with a bowed head and a slight lean to the side.

"Belle?"

"You didn't... Forget, anything, did you?" She said in a very small voice.

He knew exactly what she wanted. He knew it. Still, he was a pirate, and he was as such, a scoundrel by his nature.

"Not that I'm aware of." He said, and blinked at her.

"Oh." She looked so let down. He was laughing hard, on the inside, and turned on his heel to hide the victorious smirk that had broke on his face.

"Killian?" She said again, more sure, this time.

"Belle?" Now she had dropped the shield. She had this - light, this mischief in her eyes, a small smirk curled on her mouth. He cocked his head, because he had no idea where this was going.

"_I_ forgot something." She said simply, and crooked her finger at him, _come hither, dear_.

And like a moth to flame, he went, trying very hard not to swagger. She put that finger on his chest, stopped him where she wanted him, went on tiptoe to press just the tiniest kiss on his nose. She was grinning as she came back down, he'd bent to meet her lips.

"That's all. Goodnight." And she turned to situate herself upon the couch.

"Vixen." He accused, and slid his hook through the waist of her trousers. "Get over here, woman, you missed." And he kept her in the tight circle of his arms until someone tossed an empty bottle up to break their concentration. They were all watching, toasting him, cheering on - he didn't care, in all honesty, but she was shy under all the attention, and hid her face in his chest, her warm cheek pressed against the exposed skin of his collar.

"You beggars, what are you looking at? Get your own!" he waved them away, which only made them all laugh. "Avert you eyes!" He barked at them, though he was grinning.

_"Eye!"_ Will corrected in a mouthe, pointing to his face.

Belle continued to hide until all he steered her to the back of the room, where she could outrightly ignore all the bets that were passed along, until the lights were dimmed. He just flopped into a lengthy couch and held onto her, whispering kisses along her hairline, rubbing small circles on her shoulder, nursing her head against his collar like he'd been doing it his whole life.

"You, are trouble." He murmured against her cheek.

"No more than you are." She replied, and finally turned her face up to him, blushing prettily. He smoothed his thumb over the redness in her cheeks, pressed another kiss on her mouth, lingering with lips touching and breath mingling.

"I should go, love." He was saying, but he was saying it between kisses. "Shouldn't I? To keep you safe?"

"What exactly are you keeping me safe from?" She blinked innocently up at him.

"Me." He said, quite hoarsely. He lifted his hook, swept away a loose lock of hair from her head.

"I think I can handle you." she said quietly, and it made all sorts of things stir in his chest. He exhaled, leaned in and kissed her again, tasting those little noises she made.

"I'm no good." he said against her mouth.

"Don't you start." She said firmly, leaning away from him, though her hands remained full of his shirt front. "I have had enough of this _"you're too good for me_" nonsense to last a damn lifetime. If I didn't want you Killian, I'd say so, and don't you bloody dare-"

He sighed, swallowed up her protests with his mouth.

"Look at you, cursing like a proper sailor," he smirked quietly against her hair, before he actively pushed her away, held onto her face with his hand and lay his forearm on her shoulder. "Listen to me, darling. I'm no good, at least not right now."

"I trust you."

"Then you trust too easily. I'm a good drink away from a stumbling fool. Don't let the normalcy of my actions fool you, I'm drunk, and am in no right state to be around you." Though he pulled her into another kiss again, swiping at her bottom lip with his tongue. She moved, her nails dragging down his spine, hard enough to make him hum low into her mouth, break the kiss in order to suck a mark down on her throat while she squirmed, unsure of what he was doing or what she needed.

He left a mark and a half on her, proud enough of it to stop and hold her for a moment, just breathing. He was reeling, with her hands pulling at him, coaxing, all sorts of promises in the little breaths she was puffing against his throat.

"I should go." he gruffed.

When he pulled back from her, he nearly didn't let her out of his arms. She'd gone half lidded in her apparent pleasure and her mouth - though bruised - was open in an invitation. Those noises she had made were pure sin, and there was an issue developing south of his belt. He wiped a gentle thumb over her bottom lip as he stood, swaying mildly to his left.

"Goodnight," he murmured. "Sleep well, Belle."


	18. Chapter 18

Milah.

He'd jolted awake, nearly falling off his chair; Smith had fallen asleep on his right, so he couldn't. He wiped his hand over his brow, finding a cold sweat there. His breathing was heaved and hard to achieve, he shoved his hook in his shirt and simply ripped the seam to ease the struggle. The barmaid was watching him curiously, sweeping up broken glass that had tumbled to the floor, thanks to Dunce and his twitching elbows.

Will, who he infrequently allowed alcohol, was sitting cross legged on the bar itself. It appeared as though he'd been talking to the girl who was sweeping, due to his light blush and nervously rubbing hands.

"You right, Cap?"

"Fine." he said, but he wasn't. Not really.

Ever since he'd met her, Milah had always been in his head. She'd visited his dreams whenever she liked, not when he asked or begged or went to sleep thinking about her. Her presence never strictly dictated nightmares... Any time he saw her face was a blessing. But the good dreams were never truly any good, because the misery that rocketed through him when he realized they were dreams was cold and awful and made him sick to his stomach.

He felt his stomach recoil - two days of drinking and the thought of his love watching over his every move made a man ill. He vaulted the table and kicked open the door, bent over behind the alley, spewing up whatever was in his gut. He fell on hand, hook and knees, spitting bile.

"Cap?"

"What?" he glared over his shoulder, but the boy had bought him a cup of water to swill. He took it with a muttered thanks, swished and spit, before handing the cup back.

Will took it, shifted on his feet, then crouched beside him, giving him a half cocked smile.

"She was really beautiful." it was timidly delivered, so gently offered.

Killian didn't like talking about her. It made an already potent rage boil and bubble. Will was nine years old when he'd picked him off the street, fixed him with some clothes and given him the patch he still wore over his eye, and Milah was really the driving force for taking him in the first place. It was he who'd given him work, but Milah had made him a home.

"Yeah." he pulled himself up onto his knees, teetered and turned, sitting down heavily on his rear, back to a wall.

"I miss her, Captain." he swallowed, nervous. "I miss her a lot."

He sighed, clapped his shoulder and squeezed.

"I bet you would, lad."

The boy nodded, wetted his lip, leaned into the comfort.

"You finished throwin' up now, old man?"

The elder snorted and nodded, allowing the kid to grab his forearm and help him to his feet. There was a minute between cripples where the handshake extended and something clicked. Killian grinned, yanked him under his arm, scruffed his hair and used him like a crutch back into the bar.

"Good little lad, you are." he mocked him, earning a elbow to the ribs. The girl sweeping took the mug from him, smiling, and Killian felt the boy bulk, confused by her attention. He just chuckled, shoved him in her general direction with a wink and a grin.

He patted Smith's face, rousing him from sleep.

"Time to move, we've got sails to set before the sun rises!" he stepped up onto a chair, bracing his foot against the table. "Right, you lot! On the move! I want you sorry bastards ready in a half hour!"

He turned to see Will trying to pat his hair down before walking toward the girl, and rolled his eyes at the men groaning and flailing under all the noise. Kong was fine, stretching the kinks in his back and looking spritely.

"Want me to go and collect the lady of our ship?"

_The lady of our ship._

* * *

Killian had practically ordered her to retire for an extra hour worth of sleep but she refused, going on to duties that were difficult at the best of times, let alone when she was seizing all over from cramps and a hung over brain.

_She's not so fragile_.

He watched her pulling down a sail, navigating it with Smith behind for his weight. She carefully navigated the wind into the cloth, which gave the Roger a noticeable jolt forward. Dunce clapped, grinning widely, while Peg-Leg muttered something about his teachings finally hitting home.

_She's certainly not stupid._

Her hair was over her shoulder in an attractive, practical wavy tail, four of her mermaidian beads on either side of her cabin's key, catching his eyes. He watched her move, the easy tilt in her body and rehearsed balance in her step as his ship hit furious waves and bounced. She smiled at Smith, who congratulated her sailing prowess with a hearty shoulder smack.

She didn't seem to notice him for several hours, so naturally he sat next to her at lunch, munching obnoxiously loud on an apple right next to her ear. She had been having a polite conversation with Smith, but soon abandoned it in order to turn a stare at him, flinching back from the fallout radius of the apple's juiciness.

"Wouldn't you prefer some grass, cow?" she asked mildly.

"You're sharp tongued, for a noble."

She'd opened her mouth to remind him she wasn't a princess when he'd called her by her proper title. She closed her mouth with a small smirk. He took another crunchy bite.

"I'm about one more noisy chomp away from snatching that apple and throwing it in the ocean."

"You'd have to get it from me, first." and he took another bite.

She assessed him calmly, before turning back to Smith and continuing their conversation. He went back to crunching by her ear, and that was when she turned again. Her eyebrows were raised - _'I'm-not-impressed'_ - but her mouth was twitching - '_don't-laugh-don't-laugh-don't-laugh_'.

"Was there something I could help you with?" she enquired politely.

"No." he said. "Am I bothering you?"

"Not at all." she said sweetly, and leaned forward, parting her lips around a section of the fruit. Her teeth delicately peeled just the tiniest slice away, but her wasn't worried about her teeth so much as those lips, wet and sucking. She pulled back, licked her mouth, and returned to the conversation with Smith.

Some thing about the advantages she might have as a female fighter?

He bit into the apple but chewed it more quietly. It somehow didn't seem as attractive when he did it. What the hell kind of female trickery was that, to eat an innocent fruit like a provocative challenge?

He waited until they were finished before he tossed the stripped apple core over her head, sending it straight into the ocean. She turned and waited for him to stop daintily dabbing the corners of his mouth, before he leaned forward, close enough to kiss her, if she hadn't moved back and avoided him.

"Can I help you, Captain Jones?"

He swallowed down the taste of the apple at the back of his throat, and settled back into his barrel, away from her.

"I just thought we should talk." he said with a particularly naughty grin.

"Well, here we are, talking." she smoothed her hands over her legs.

"How is your lip?"

"Fine."

"Want me to kiss it better?"

"No." she tipped her head, and smiled, getting to her feet. "If that's all, Captain?"

"No, that's not all." he offered his elbow, tucking her hand tight between his bicep and forearm as he went. "I wanted to ask about what your plans were after I take you home to your papa."

"You want to know if I'm still returning to Rumplestiltskin, you mean." They took a quiet turn about the deck, his glare deflecting an inquisitive Willhelm. She spotted the apple core bobbing on the waves and trained her eyes on it, her hands getting more and more heated on his arm, the grip forcefully slackening.

"What about your father, Belle?" he turned his head to study the far away look on her face. "Your family? Don't you think it'd be a better life for them if you stayed as you were, and not have them worry about what misdeeds he's up to?"

She have him a pointed look.

"Of course I want them to know I'm safe. That's why I'll explain what's happened."

"And you think he'll believe that he hasn't spelled you?" he shook his head. "You told me so once, that he'd never let you go again."

She smiled softly on his face.

"You actually _listen_ to me?" her amusement was hollow.

"Course, love. I keep trying to tell you, I'm a gentleman." he motioned to how they were standing, shoulder to shoulder, linked at the arm.

"Being a gentleman doesn't involve listening to a woman."

"It does to me." he smirked, knowing what kind of favours that sweet talk did for him. "In all seriousness, though, woman. How do you think you'll return to that- Shadowy Castle?"

"Dark Castle. And I thought I'd just, summon him to me."

He jolted, unfortunately she caught it. Her hand squeezed his bicep, as a reassurance.

"You... really want him to take you away?"

"Yes." she returned her eyes to the water, searching for the apple's remains. "I don't want to be tied down in nobility. I know there's an adventure to be had, I know I'm capable."

"I wasn't aware noble girls were brought up chasing adventure."

"I'm not just after the adventure, Killian." She said very quietly, letting her words carry on the wind. "I'm chasing love, and freedom. Honestly tell me that I'm useless and stupid, and I'll gladly retire back into nobility."

He stared.

"If you could honestly look me in the eye and tell me I'm a pathetic and incapable woman who doesn't know what I'm talking about, if you told me I was too fragile to do anything but mend socks and raise babies, I would take that on your word as a pirate." she looked at him, trying to remain even, though she broadcasted nervousness. "On your word as a man. I'd believe you, should you tell me."

He huffed.

"Don't guilt me, love."

"I'm not. I truly am used to it, so if you've something to say..."

"You," he said, and waggled a finger at her. "Are more trouble than you let on. Of course I won't tell you that. You're more'n any noble, any woman, I know. But adventure, darling, that conflicts with this idea you have of returning to the-... Going back, from whence you came. You can't be a maid and have adventure, love. It's one or the other."

"And what greater adventure is there, than to fall in love, Killian Jones?"

"To stay alive, in one piece."

"You can't tell me that. You're missing a hand."

"No thanks to your lover."

"He's _not_ my lover." she turned away from him, her jaw setting. "Don't start with names, I don't want to fight with you."

"Then don't." he shrugged, took her chin and turned her back to face him. "I'm just saying you have options to be considered, instead of promising yourself away in some locked deal. You either want to have adventure or stay safe and in love. But if you wanted the adventure first, if you wanted, to say, perhaps, stay aboard my ship..."

"I didn't think you'd want me any longer than you'd have to deal with me." she blinked at him innocently. From under her comfort and easiness, she looked properly and honestly surprised. Hopeful, even.

"Yes, well," he let her chin from between his forefinger and thumb. "Perhaps you've grown on me."

"Like barnacles on the bottom of this ship you call home?" her brows rose.

"Something of the like." He grinned, though his usual pirate charm was lost on her. He doubted anything of his piracy had ever won her over, to begin with, so he reverted to being more of a gentleman, more of a regular man. "If you did, you know, want to stay, I wouldn't say no."

He _needed_ her. Needed the extra time for her to see sense and fall in love with him, already.

"You won't abide my search for Rumple, though." she pondered aloud, to which he didn't reply. Why would he, when she already knew the answer? "I want to stay on board, Captain. I want to see the world. Any, all of them. I'm capable on the ropes, at least, and I'm not too bad at half the rest of the duties."

"You do your share, it's true. It's why I'm offering."

_Kind of._

"And you'd do that?" she asked slowly, as if waiting for his face to betray a lie. "Let me stay?"

"I told you once, love, I'm fond of your accent."

"Would that be all you're fond of, Captain?"

And she could purr like a kitten when she liked.

_Siren! _

_"_I would let you stay, if you wanted to." he promised.

"But you've already said I should meet my father, right?" She tilted her head, a wicked smile curling her lips. He had no idea where she was going with this. "You're right, I should see him again, at least let him know I'm safe. At least tell him that I'm not dead or in keeping, any more."

"If that's what you want..." he narrowed his eyes on that devilish smirk on her, how it looked particularly evil.

"Come with me."

He blanked.

"Sorry?"

"You heard me." the smile grew in size. "Bring the crew. Come to court with me. My people probably can't offer much - I couldn't gauge without seeing how they've recovered after the war - but, we can certainly host a party and celebrate the heroes who brought me home."

"And why, would I, notorious pirate, want to waltz into a nobleman's court and present his only child?"

"Because I asked nicely." She said sweetly. "Put it to the men."

"You put it to the men." he motioned to them, letting his arm swing open to let her through. He offered it like a challenge, fully expecting for her to reconsider just for that reason, and that reason alone.

"Fine." she said brightly, stepped up onto the railing, and took hold of a rope. She swung down and landed smoothly in the middle of the deck, for the entrance, the attention. "I have a favor to ask of you lot! Listen up!"

They rounded, glancing at him for his permission, though Dunce and Smith didn't bother. In a few simple words, she explained to them that she would stay on with them - met by cheers and grins - but she needed to see her father first. She told them they would be invited as heroes, of course.

They looked nervous.

"Oh come now," she scoffed, and folded her arms. "Where is your sense of adventure? It's only a few nobles, boys, nothing to be frightened of. Are you pirates or pansies?"

At that particular challenge, it was out rightly decided. Even by the ones who didn't like her, they would go down to the court and they'd drink all they could handle gladly. Killian was still surprised that she worked them over the way she did. As much as he wanted to get his vengeance over and done with, he wanted her affections secured and he would need more time, if he was to win them.

Or steal them. Whatever.


	19. Chapter 19

The men would stay behind while Killian and Belle went ahead and figured out if they were safe or not.

Well, that's what Killian told her. The men were roaring to go and prove their bravery to the court of nobles, more so to Belle.

Their castle wasn't originally built as such. It had started as a command post for soldiers and blossomed into a safe haven for those mortally wounded or without homes. It had then morphed into something more heavily protected under their unity. The add-on towers and gardens made it look impressive, but in reality, it was a fort at it's heart, one of the most secure palaces - without magic - in the realms.

It was the first thing they saw upon climbing the hill. Belle clapped her hands, grinning widely, and looked to the pirate Captain for his approval of her home.

"It's... Charming." Killian said, waving his hand around at it. "I'm fond of the doom and gloom vibe, very intimidating."

"The Roger has a lame mast." she reminded him, and fluttered her lashes. "Sags in the middle."

"That wasn't my fault."

"Nor was the architecture of my home. And it was so your fault, you went too close to the mermaids."

"Well, I learned my lesson, didn't I, darling?" he rose a brow at her. "It wasn't I that went too close after hearing all the stories now, was it?"

"It also wasn't you in forty layers of skirts, barefoot and weaponless, against four full grown men you knew to be rapers, fearing for her virtue." she reminded him.

He considered this.

"Touché."

They started walking.

"I'm nervous." she confessed in a happy murmur. "I mean, I had promised 'forever'. My father - he'll be thrilled, of course, but he can be... Excitable."

"Don't begrudge the man his excitement. You'd think you'd be away for two days on a pleasant holiday, the way you're talking. Not bargained off to a monster to a Dark Castle."

"Rum is not a-"

"Right, right, whatever you say, lass."

She just sighed, and carried on. They walked past growing fields, newly made houses, a street market boasting the sturdiest pots and long lasting spells for better kept food.

"It looks good." she beamed. "It looks like it's recovering."

"The war hurt them, badly, then?"

"What part of 'I-gave-up-my-life' did you miss?" she looked around at all the tentative villagers who blatantly stared at the both of them, his hook more than either face. Belle waited until they were well out of ear shot before she explained.

"My father only ever briefly introduced me to the public in a formal manner... He wouldn't have announced what deal had been made to save them."

"That's unfair to you."

"Well, I wasn't supposed to be around to know, would I? Besides, they won't recognise my face. After Gaston arrived and offered to take my hand in marriage, I was kept away from the public. My father was certain that, with the way the war was going, I'd have to run the fiefdom by my own - he was teaching me everything he knew." she looked cheeky. "Gaston hated it."

Killian's eyebrows hiked.

"Did he, now?"

"With every bone in his body."

"And this was the same man you were supposed to marry?"

She nodded, looking amused.

"I can hardly imagine you under any man's thumb, darling." he said airily. Pulling some lavender off a bush as he passed, he rolled it around his hand before swiping it over the back of his neck and behind his ears.

"What are you doing?" she'd stopped dead in her tracks to watch him.

"I haven't bathed in the better part of a month." he said, matter-of-fact. "Even if you got the wash basin, some of us had to slum it with sweaty pirates."

"Between Wobbly Ken and Windy Joe?" she remembered innocently, before nodding to his chest. "You should get under your arms, too."

"Are you saying I smell?"

"Positively rotten," she chirped, and continued on her way. "Though I'm sure my father will be glad for your modest attempt to hide that poignant odour."

"You get more and more wordy the closer we get to your home, you know that?" he took a few more of the flowers and did as she suggested. "I'm already missing the other you. Where's the Belle that swore like a sailor and danced like a harlot?"

"I did no such thing, Killian Jones." she rounded on him, smiling with her mouth - not with her eyes. "And you'll refrain from mentioning such activities in my fiefdom."

"Of course, milady. Wouldn't want your wrath, milady." he bowed, though he kept her eye with a naughty wink at her. She waited for him to catch up, and lifted her nose with an exaggerated sniff. "Do I pass the lady's standards of stenches?"

"I wasn't aware you cared for my standards."

"I don't."

She laughed, shoved his shoulder playfully, and kept on, while he watched her arse swing in those leather pants.

"Are you just going to stare, or are you coming along?" she hadn't even bothered turning around.

"Tell me more about this Gaston fellow of yours. I do love a good horror story." he jogged to catch up, still eyeing her back end.

"Well, he tried to shoo me away from war schematics and the library, as if it'd make a difference. In my own home, mind you. That's why I loved living with Rum, his library was-" but she caught herself, caught the happy, reminiscent words before they prompted a sharp cut down from him. She cleared her throat. "Gaston is a typical man, not a bad man. He would've made a good father and a fair husband."

"Only fair?"

She sent him a side long look.

"You talked yourself into it." he rationalized. "Why didn't you just say no? Surely you didn't find your voice just in time to will yourself away to... The Dark Castle. Don't try and tell me it was because your father was nervous about your prospects, either, because I don't believe that's entirely true. You've a beautiful face and you'd be worth any man's attention."

_Well, nearly any man._

She paused, turning her face to him.

"My mother died." she said in a clear, casual tone. "My father was devastated. He told me frequently he worried he wouldn't be able to raise me well enough for someone good enough to take care of me."

"Were you young?"

She looked ahead.

"I was of the age when nobility starts to groom their girls for their up and coming lives. I had one lesson with her about flowers." she realized that probably meant very little to him, so she clarified. "I was ten years old."

He fumbled for words, internally. He didn't like seeing her shut down and away from him like that. He was used to her saying exactly what she thought, opening up like a flood gate, not locking up her thoughts in a vault.

"I never knew either of my parents." he told her. "I was an orphan from the get go. I learned to steal before I could speak." He was well into his youth before he could string together a coherent sentence, but he didn't want any more of her pity.

She reached out and caught his hook, making him glance at the way her little fingers wrapped so easily around the appendage. When he met her gaze he was nearly knocked flat on his back by what he saw there.

She didn't pity him at all - she mourned for him.

"If I had've known you then, Killian," she said tenderly. "I would've taken you home."

"You're taking me home now." he wiggled his brows at her and made to turn, but she didn't let go of the hook. It made him feel... more a part of it, when she did that.

"I would've taken you home, and made sure you were taken care of." she insisted. "Children don't deserve to grow up like that. Without a friend to take you in. I wish I could take that away from you, too."

"I don't." he said, and maneuvered his hook to slide out of her hand. He raised both arms, shrugging. "It's made me who I am today, hasn't it?"

"That's what makes it so sad." she told him, with all due regrets, before bowing her head and passing him in a quick trot. "The castle isn't too far from here. We can enter through the side gate, go past the rose garden."

"Oi." he caught her hand in his, made her turn to face him. "What just happened, here?"

"Nothing."

"Liar." he studied her eyes. "You... Think I'm your friend?"

"Isn't that what you are?" she blinked at him. Her hand flexed in his. "I mean, you did take me from the Queen and, you did save my life."

"And the kisses?" he tried not to let indignation touch his voice. "Because I hate to tell you this, love, but friends don't kiss like that."

She looked over her shoulder at the castle, peeking through the trees. She tightened her grip on his hand, tugged him closer, put her free fingertips to his cheek. There was something in her eyes... Did she like him? Because he'd made the entire last month all about her liking him, and she'd hardly given him such a hint.

He lowered his head, keeping his gaze locked on hers, trapping her there.

"Are we... Just friends, Belle?" he asked her roughly, and pressed just a small kiss to the corner of her mouth. "Don't you... Feel _more,_ for me?"

"I do." she replied in a guilty whisper.

Her fingers ghosted over his stubble to the nape of his neck, and she pulled him to her mouth again, initiating a timid, tongueless kiss. He sucked her bottom lip, and she made a noise that made his hand - really, there was no control over him when she went and made noises like that - lose her fingers and press against her back, urging her closer. Her now free hand joined the first on the opposite side of his face, sketching out the line of his jaw and cheek bone.

She broke it, ducking her head to press against his collar. He was nearly winded, but kissed the back of her hair regardless, putting both arms comfortably around her shoulders.

"I don't know how much." she whispered. "But I feel something... _More_, for you."

He hummed low in his throat, vaguely very glad he'd rubbed some of that lavender under his arms.

"We should go." she muttered, and lifted her head, though she hid her eyes.

"Should we?" he didn't let her slide away from him without first squeezing her shoulder. "Can't we continue this conversation?"

"There's nothing to continue." she said with a small, sad smile. "I have nothing more to say than that."

"And what if I had something to say?" he caught the back of her neck.

"If you really did have something to say, Killian," she said quietly, backing away from him. "You would've already come out and said it. I'm used to men not telling me what they feel. You're no exception, just like every other man on this realm, you'd prefer to keep all that locked behind a tough façade."

"I'm not every other man, Belle, I'm just me. And maybe I would tell you if you'd stop walking away from me like I carry the damn plague!"

"Then tell me." she said simply.

He scowled.

"You're a difficult creature, lass."

"And you're a stubborn arsed pirate." she waited for perhaps three seconds more, then shook her head. "Like I guessed. There's nothing to say. Now come on, would you?" she turned on her heel and made tracks fast enough so that he could only just say it wasn't running.

He followed, made her slow down, opened the gate for her. She lead the way in silence while he was assaulted by floral scents and immaculate gardens - he admired koi fish in a huge moon shaped pond before her raised protests caught his attention. Before he knew it, he was struck about the face with the handle of his own sword, and Belle was kicking up a stink trying to defend him.


	20. Chapter 20

The guards were new ones, ones who didn't recognise her, so when she was dragged before her father they were outrightly pleased with themselves for bringing forward a pair of ragged vagabonds trying to sneak into the castle. She shook free of one of them, shoving them roughly in the gut before she turned and said:

"Papa?"

Sir Maurice sat heavily upon his throne and stared at her, eyes blown wide and unblinking. His goblet clattered to the ground noisily, the liquid inside splashing out and spilling into a dark purple puddle.

"Hello, papa." she said a little more warmly, and wrenched her arm away from the guard who'd dug his fingers into her tightly, only to jolt and stumble back at the king's almighty: "GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY LITTLE GIRL!"

Killian roused at the bellow, his head lolling. He winced at the throbbing pain in his temple, and became lucid enough to see the man barreling for the noble, and the girl sprinting for her father.

They crashed and he swung her up in a tight embrace. He was openly sobbing, stroking her hair, he words nearly completely undistinguishable between the blubbered: "How, how is - this - possible? How? How is this - this-?"

"Papa." she pried herself from him, patting the tears on his face. She had a wide enough smile that split open her lip again, making the knight pale in anger, his fingertip wet with red. "No, no, they didn't do this. Papa, I fell, listen to me, I'm alright." she glanced at Killian, who had both brows cocked, his eyebrow a steady blue plum on his head from where he was struck.

The knight let her down but not out from under his arm, so she lead him to the pirate who was half standing, half carried. The guards dropped him as they approached, so she put a hand on Killian's shoulder to keep him upright.

"This is Killian, papa. He was the one who gave me safe passage on his vessel and brought me here."

"Sir." he said dryly, before he too, was pulled into a tight hug, swept off the floor with arms trapped by his sides. He squirmed but the man was a bear in his prior life, near squashing the air out of his lungs. Belle just giggled behind her hand, and caught him when he was finally set down.

"A feast! To celebrate this young lad and his bravery, saving my Belle, my little girl, and bringing her home! My girl is home! Spread the word, ready the celebration, I say! What do you favour, son?" he pulled Killian under his other arm. "Mutton? Roast? Or are you a man after his mead? We make the finest sweet mead in all the land, I promise you!"

"More a rum fellow, myself." he mused, cocking a half grin.

"Rum, of course, the drink of a man who knows what he's capable of, I say! You-" he glared abruptly at the four guards. "-Out of my sight and I'll try to forget your faces."

They saluted, then scuttled. Killian bared his teeth as one handed back his sword, swapping it for a cheeky grin when Belle noticed the guard's jolt.

"Bad form." she said around her father's chest.

"It's bad form to hit a man when he isn't looking." he scoffed, siding blade into it's sheath.

"Indeed it is!" The knight agreed heartily. "Are you two hungry?"

"Ravenous." Killian said, though Belle declined.

"I need to have a minute to myself." she said, and hugged her father. "Killian will be inviting some of our friends, papa, for the feast, if that's alright?"

SHe hardly needed to ask.

"ANy man or woman who has come to your aid you may call upon to celebrate your return, my beautiful girl." he kissed her head, shook his own with tears in his eyes. "Gods, I thought I'd never see you again. If I could procure the world, Belle, I'd give it to you and your friends."

"I wouldn't trust Killian with the world." she responded promptly. "He doesn't like reading."

"I'm a Captain." was his defence. "I don't have the time. I thought we'd talked about this?"

"My girl," the knight went on. "Always clever, my girl, always had her nose in a book. Taught me a thing or two about stratagem in war, you know. Has a brilliant mind. Oh, go on with you, you're going to the library, aren't you?"

She giggled behind her hand.

"No, papa, that was my next stop."

He caught her face in his hands.

"Gods. I thought I would never see you again." he pulled her into another hug, then shoo'd her away to her own devices, before scooping Killian under his arm and ordering the kitchen to bring up a plate of everything they made specially.

He ate a hot meal complete with their mead - really the sweetest he'd ever tried - looking out over the fiefdom, how it had prospered, how Belle had saved nearly eight hundred lives by stopping the assault so that they could tend their sickly and dying. They had of course, suffered terrible amounts, but she had remedied that with nothing but a simple deal, and he was so glad to have her home, so glad for Killian's help.

"You a knight, son?"

"No," Killian wiped his arm over his mouth. "Do I look it?"

"No!" the man laughed. "Would you like to be?"

"Sir Killian?" he said, and raised his brows. "You'd knight me?"

"In a heart beat, son." the knight promised him. "I'd give you any land you wanted. Are you married?"

"No." he snorted in reply.

"Good man. Keep free." he tapped his nose, checked the time. "Gods! I must go, inform my people that Belle's home. She's popular, you know, mostly with the children, she looked after them in lots when the war... you know." he looked sad then.

"Sir...?"

"When the wars took their parents, son." he said in a low, sad gravel, a mere whisper concerning the man had been bellowing the entire time he was there. "When they were left orphaned and alone, Belle took them under her wing and cared for them as though they were her own. First two, then five, then ten and twenty children. Amazing woman, my girl is."

"Indeed she is." Killian pushed up from his chair. "I should at least wash my face before-"

"Nonsense! Nonsense, of course, I'll have you fitted and into new clothes for your knighting later -" _Wait, what? When was that decided?_ "SEAMSTRESS!"

A pair of fluttery women burst through the doors in quick trots, measuring tapes hung over the crooks of arms, the backs of necks, tied around their waists.

"Blue, I think."

"To match his eyes?"

"And his skin tone."

"Nicely tanned-"

"Pretty eyes, you have, sir-"

"Yes, navy blue to match."

"Velvet?"

"Crushed?"

"Velvet!" he scoffed.

"Hm, no, perhaps silk."

"Yes, silk!"

And then they scuttled away, not bothering to listen to his protesting.

The knight waved him on merrily, then, with a big grin.

"I need a carrier pigeon to -"

"Invite your friends, yes, I know, I've organized it, here, for the dock, yes?" he whistled, called the bird over. He chatted to Killian while he scribbled down what needed to be said and sent the bird off at the window.

"Go find yourself a bath, son, only the best for the man responsible for bringing my girl home!" he beamed, the same way Belle often did. "They'll find you with your clothes, no matter where you hide."

"Right." Killian nodded, sticking out his hand for the man to grasp. He was pulled into another hug, thanked again, then sent on his way while the father just about skipped out of the hall again, singing some booming song about a girl in a paddock of roses.


	21. Chapter 21

He really had been innocently trying to find a bath in which he could sink into - and seemed to have found one, by all the steam wafting through the door. He probably should've knocked but forgot social convention and simply pushed open the door, just to skid in his tracks.

"Bugger. Sorry. I was looking for my own bath." he eyed the space that her legs had vacated, on their way up to her chest. "Though it looks big enough for two."

"It's not." he was told from somewhere behind a mountain of bubbles. The book in her hands had snapped shut upon his arrival - she put it on the chest beside her, which boasted about seven kinds of soaps and a scented candle. She had a scrubbing brush on the ledge of the tub, and a washcloth folded beside it.

"I'd... like to test that, assumption." his eyes skated over the bubbles - the places it had broken from her sitting up or her knees poking through. "You never know. Could come in handy."

"Handy?" She made a somewhat distressed giggling noise, then lifted her face from the bubbles, stretching out her neck. "Really? Is the irony of that lost on you?"

"Never, darling." and he gave her a wolfish grin. Hie eyes went traveling of their own accord, there really was nothing he could do to stop that.

"Killian?"

"Hmm?"

"You're just... staring."

"I'm aware." he folded both arms and leaned against the door frame, continuing to stare. "I'd say I was sorry but, I'm not."

She studied him a moment longer.

"Are you going to stay over there?" she asked him finally.

"I am a gentleman." he insisted, though he was glaring at the bubbles around her like he'd much rather cannon ball into the tub just to rid her of her covering. "I won't come in unless I'm invited."

"Of course." she said, and carefully reached for the cloth, pulling it under the water before running it over her forearm, up to her shoulder, over the flat part of her chest. He wetted his lips and leaned slightly, to see more slippery, wet skin revealed. If she kept it up, he was going to try out the space in that tub regardless if he was invited or not.

"You're quiet, Captain Jones."

"I wish you wouldn't call me that." He said, raising a brow as she scrubbed at her knee, lifting it out of the water and following the soft skin of her calf to her ankle. "It... sounds _so much _like an invitation, when you call me that."

"Yes, and that's the greatest travesty you've yet to behold, your proper title sounding an invite."

"No, those bloody bubbles are the worst thing to befall me." he said darkly, as though each bubble were mocking him. He checked her expression to see if she'd been offended, but she was only amused. Her hair was wet but drying, done up in an elaborate looking knot on her head, a few strands escaping the black velvet that kept them there.

"Is that... my key, pinning your hair?"

"Observant, aren't you?" she laughed, shrugged one shoulder. "I wanted to keep it close in case someone put it someplace and I couldn't get it back to you. I know you've missed your bed. Oh!" she put a wet hand to her mouth, suddenly looking mortified.

"What?"

"I-... Forgot to make your bed!" she sank into the bubbles, expecting his laughter. "Oh, no. I'm sorry."

"That's what you're apologising for?" he mused. "Really? Out of all the things you could apologise for, that's what you're chosing?"

"And what have I to say my dues?" she prompted, raising her head self righteously. "Besides calling you Captain Jones?"

He lowered his lashes, eyed the way she was rubbing her thigh under the water, almost suggestive enough.

"You'd have every one think you're sweeter than honey." he said lowly. "But you're more slippery than an eel."

"I'd say so, in the water, and naked as I am." She laughed again as he shifted against the frame, as though chafing him in it's restraint. She sighed, tipped her head back, rubbed a wash cloth from between her breasts - just peeping out from behind bubbles - to around to the back of her neck, humming her pleasure. "But maybe I am sweet, and only eel-ish when you're around. Perhaps you're an influence on me, _Captain Jones_?"

"Woman." He said lowly, sending her a pointed grin. "If you keep talking so pretty, I fear for your virtue."

"Promises, promises." She lowered the timbre of her voice, stared without blinking at him. He tried to maintain eye contact, he really did. But now she was twisting to see him more fully, and her chest pressing against the tub, making her breasts push up dramatically.

There was a moment where they went from teasing to something a mite more serious in nature. Neither one had any idea what to call it.

All Belle knew was that she wanted him to continue the conversation from the forest, to admit he had feelings for her too. That's all she wanted, for him to tell her that, even if he didn't know what it was, there was something there. Something worth mentioning.

"Belle-" he said lowly, with honourable intentions, until she began to rise from the bath, and the door behind him opened. There was a chattering of high energied women and he jolted, spinning around to confirm. Neither had noticed him, but that was all that was positive, so far.

"Get in here!" Belle hissed, and looked around for somewhere he could hide.

The women were coming in too fast, however - "Did you call for us, lady Belle?" - and it was all he could do to run, step on and over her bath, and ducked behind it on all fours, in the worst hiding place he'd ever chosen in his life.

Belle made her politest excuses and told them to close the door behind them, telling them she needed time by herself. The ladies laid out her dress, already picked for her, before they left the room, closing the door behind them.

"Killian?" she peered over the tub, her hair dripping onto his shoulder. "Oh, I'm sorry. You can come up now. They're gone."

When he rose, he turned to face her. They were inches apart. Her skin smelt _so good_.

"Uh-...Uhm..." she swallowed. "I... Killian, I just-..."

The sudsy warmth spread over his chest as he yanked her to him. The warm water dripped down his forearms to the crook of his elbows, those teasing bubbles popped against his leather and her skin. She clung to him, maybe for balance, her hands on his shoulders.

He pinned her against the bath, assaulting her mouth, bending her nearly backwards with the force of his kiss. He scraped stubble and teeth down her throat, tasting the water, the soap and suds and her quick, panted breaths, the butterfly heartbeat against his tongue.

"You're trouble." he murmured into her skin, and pulled her up against his chest, his hand going over the length of her warm, wet spine. "And if you don't stop teasing me the way you are... I am rather close to... getting_ in_ trouble."

She gulped in air, for a full two seconds before another warm wave crashed into him, her arms winding tight around his shoulders, body rubbing against his vest. _She_ kissed _him_, no alcohol to be blamed on either of their parts. He took it as an invitation when she gasped out his name and pulled her out of the tub, arms going to the backs of her legs. His hand squeezed her thigh, fingers pressing closer to her innocence, making her keen into his mouth.

He'd honestly never missed his other hand more.

He stood, tucking her legs around his hips, and stumbled blindly to a wall, pinning her back against the cold tiles. Quite cruel, but entirely necessary, as she arched away from them and into him. He broke it, breathing in her clean smell and mewling noises like they were his oxygen.

"I don't wanna hurt you." He growled, pressing his cheekbone against hers, speaking lowly into her ear. "Curse it, woman, I don't want to scare you."

"You aren't going to." she said against his jaw. "I trust you."

"You should probably stop doing that." he had at least given her a fair warning. He lipped at her ear, feeling stray bubbles crackle against his mouth. His stubble rubbed free a path as he went to the mark on her throat and applied his mouth there, once again making her arch into his hold.

"Killian." she was saying, over and over, a mantra. "Killian, Killian."

Someone called her name and broke whatever spell had made them lose track of time. He grunted, frustrated, kicked the door and nudged the latch closed with his boot. She was wide eyed, mouth red and open, and he _still _wasn't sure if she wanted him or not. So he puffed, took his hook and dug it into the wall behind her to keep him grounded. He seemed so wounded, unsure, gazing at her like she was made of glass, so she steered his face up with her hand.

"Killian?"

The woman pounded at the door, terrified apparently, calling her name and babbling something incoherent. She glanced at it, up to him, licking her mouth the same way a whore made money out of hers.

"Don't do that." He grumped, and stared, fixated, at her lower lip.

"What is it?" She called, mildly strangled, only for more nonsense and panic in reply, the anxious jiggling of the door. "I'll- just, give me a moment!" she called.

"I have duties again." She sagged, something he actively felt more than he could see. "They're not going to stop until I go."

"Go see what they want." He mumbled, grumpy with the developing need in his lower half. "Then get back here, fast as you can." he felt one of her legs unwind and tentatively touch the floor, hopping for a moment, a reminder that he did in fact, have the other thigh in his hand. He let it go and felt her drag down, her hands cupping the back of his neck for support.

"Why should I come back so fast?"

"There's... some things, we need to discuss." he averted his eyes as she reached for the towel, but only because she was watching him watch her. With the fluffy material tucked securely under her arms, she raised a brow.

"I think you should give me incentive to return." she told him, matter-of-factly.

"I want to tell you something, and you're going to want to hear." he said, and dropped another kiss onto her mouth. "Now hurry_ up_, woman."

"Aye aye, Captain." She replied, and patted the crotch of his pants on her way out.


	22. Chapter 22

HERE.

WE.

GO!

Aude

xx

* * *

Belle pulled on the shift gown, something simple in a pretty pale pink color, with a decoration of dark pink roses along the hem and waist, threaded through with warm gold - she shimmered as she moved.

She skipped down to the great hall with her hair up, still wet, in damp curls already falling loose from the strip of velvet. The gaurds pushed open the doors for her and she opened her mouth to ask what exactly was so important she had petrified servants all about, before her eyes settled upon her pale skinned father and the scaly man who had spun to meet her.

She very nearly fainted dead away.

"Oh." was what came out of her mouth. She pressed a hand against her chest, nodded dumbly. "Yes. Yes, I had a feeling...Oh, it's hot in here, isn't it?" She teetered to her left dangerously, but Rumplestiltskin was already there, his hand under her elbow. His eyes swept over her face - landed on her cut lip, her bruised throat - his other hand steadied against her upper arm.

"She-... Told me you were dead." he said in his quiet, high pitched murmur. "I thought... You'd died."

"Did she?" she was still very dizzy.

He snapped his fingers and lowered her carefully onto a couch that cushioned her, already warm. He took a seat beside her, keep one arm around her on her shoulder, the other on her hand.

"Regina." he rasped. "Said that-... Your father... Had been cruel to you, had locked you in a tower and you'd died- they had tried to purge you for- spending time- with me." he went a strange, shiny pale colour.

"Rum." she breathed, and put her hand on his face. "No. Regina was the one who'd locked me in a tower."

"She what?" he hissed, and tightened his arm around her shoulders. "Are those these marks, Belle? Did she hit you?"

"No." she blinked, smoothing away a wayward strand of his hair. "No, these were-... I fell."

"Did she hurt you, Belle?"

"She- just left me. Fed me, kept me clean, sheltered... just, never explained what I'd done. I was... I was so alone, Rum."

"Nothing, dearie." he smoothed away a stray curl. "You've done nothing wrong. You're not alone, anymore."

She could feel tears, her face screwing up in an effort to keep her emotions compressed. But she couldn't help it - she trapped a sob behind one hand and hid her face on his shoulder, while he put both arms around her and held her tight.

Her father was asking questions, but Rum's hands were blocking out the sound - the distinction in his words, to reduce them to mere noise. She put her other arm around his waist, clinging to him with fistfuls of his vest scrunched in one hand.

He clicked his fingers and the father was gone - confused, desperate to protect his daughter, unsure of why exactly she was clinging to her captor the way she was. She flinched at the silence and looked up at him, shocked.

"It's alright, dearie. He's on the other side of the castle. It'll take him a little while to come back, he's a man out of shape, that one." he teased lightly. "Gives us a moment to ourselves."

"I wouldn't count on it."

There was an abrupt shift in his demeanor - his gently stroking hands went still, his entire body shifted into stiffness. She whimpered, lifted his eyes to his face, which had flushed with dark colors, moving shadows under his skin.

"Rum," she whispered. "I can explain."

Killian was standing at the end of the hall, his backside propped against a window ledge, having apparently just climbed through it. His shirt was still wet and his face was murderous as he glared at the imp, his hand going instantly for his sword.

"No." she choked, and jolted to her feet, standing between them, a hand pressing on Rumple's dragon hide studded shoulder. "Don't you dare!"

Rumplestiltskin rose and swung her behind him, but she clung to his vest front and kept from being moved, her feet skidding against the power of his pull.

"He saved me!" she shouted, because he wasn't looking at her, didn't even bother. "He was the one who brought me home, Rum!"

"He... What?"

"He broke me free of the Queen's castle. He saved me, Rum, don't you dare hurt him."

"Yes, _Rum_." Killian had drawn his sword, and was pointing it at him, taking long strides forward. "Don't you dare?"

"Stop it!" she shot him a look, raising her palm in his direction. "Killian, put down the sword-"

"_Killian_?" Rumplestiltskin repeated in a near squeal.

"Don't start - I can explain-"

"It seems I've taken to the habit of stealing your women, Rumplestiltskin." the pirate growled, continuing to advance.

"What?" Belle sent him a withering look. "I'm not yours! Rum-" she caught his vest with two hands.

"No, I wouldn't - Rumplestiltskin; _I love you_!"

But he wasn't listening. In fact, he disappeared from under her hands, his vest turning to thick purple smoke before nothing at all. The shades all closed around the windows - slamming and locking shut. The doors of the great hall burst into a maintained and stable flame, while the colored smoke swirled in the roof, cracking with power.

"No!" Belle ran and slammed into Killian; who tried to shrug her away, but she wrenched him close, pulling him to face her. "Why is he like this? What did you _do_?!"

"I did nothing!" he roared, and shoved her in the shoulder. "Back off, princess."

"I," she said through her teeth. "Am not, a princess."

And she punched him square in the jaw.

While he was half bent, recoiling, she lifted her foot and kicked him to the ground, before throwing herself on top of the sword wielding arm and wrestling with him. He nearly lifted her with one arm until she dug a knuckle into the soft spot in his muscle, making it flop uselessly - a trick she'd picked up from Kong in one of her first hand-to-hand lessons.

He had yanked hard enough to have her back to his damp chest, however, and she had full intentions of scrambling off of him with the sword in her hands until his hook tip was poised at her throat and Rumplestiltskin had taken a solid form once more.

"You hurt her," the imp purred, reptilian eyes delighted. "And I won't kill you. I will _destroy _you."

"Stop it." she said again. "Both of you. Stop."

"She is mine." Rumplestiltskin said with a victorious sneer. "She loves me."

"So sure of that, are you?" Killian's hook twisted, poised down at her breast, next to her heart. "We were aboard a ship together for weeks. It took me but one night to woo your Milah."

"His, Milah?" Belle repeated.

"My wife." Rum said to her, though he continued to glare at the pirate.

Belle was still confused, but she understood on some fundamental level. Killian had taken off with Rum's wife - and had fallen in love with her. Rumplestiltskin had killed her, taken her heart as a poetic revenge. And now Killian had tried to return the favour, by claiming her as his.

He'd never really liked her.

And she'd... she'd developed a fondness, for him.

Feelings.

Why did she have feelings?

"Killian." she turned her head, her nose swiping across the scruff of his chin. "Get the hook out of my face, and let me go."

He didn't look at her.

"Killian." she repeated, and released the sword from her hands. She was still laying mostly on top of his arm, so he wouldn't be able to inflict any damage with the weapon. Knowing him and his track record for sword fights he'd lost, she shouldn't bother with a blade. She applied gentle fingertips to his chest, pushing slightly, but he didn't budge.

"You know I love him. And you know the depth of that love." she lifted her face closer to his, made sure that he could see her wounded expression in his peripheral vision. "How can you do this to me?" she asked him quietly.

"How can_ you _do this?" she took in a long, laboured breath. "You had this planned all along, and here I thought you might actually be a decent man. What a stupid girl I am, after all."

His eyes flicked to her, mouth in a grim line.

"I've saved your life twice." he said through his teeth. "First from the queen, then from the sea. You owe me."

"I owe you nothing. You took me from the Queen because you needed me for this plan of yours. I distinctly remember tending your wounds for three days in a forest when I could've let you lay to waste and be found by her." she could feel traitorous tears leaking from the corners of her eyes, trailing into her hair. "I never thought you cruel, Killian Jones, not once. Why change my mind now?"

Her fingertips found the catches of his hook - she twisted it sharply, yanking it out of the cradle, tossing it over his shoulder. He growled and glared at the action, but just rearranged his arm to press against her throat instead. He followed one, two, three of those devastating tears with his eyes, then huffed and glared again at Rumplestiltskin, who was watching them with a spasm under his right eye.

"What exactly would you have us do now?" the pirate drawled.

"I'd have you _die."_

"No. No one is dying. No one is losing any other limbs. No one is fighting. You're going to behave yourselves." Belle turned to Rumple, her hand curling around Killian's forearm. "He has never treated me poorly, Rum, and he has saved my life, no matter the reason."

"If you knew what he had done..."

"I'm sorry, but neither of you saw it fit to tell me you harbored a vendetta. You," she directed to Killian. "More so than him."

"I apologize," he said roughly. "If our mouthes were otherwise occupied." and he dragged his lips against her throat, watching the magician, who hissed and advanced.

"Stop!" Belle threw up her palm, halting him. "You, stop." she shoved her elbow back into his chest.

"Deny it." he said roughly.

"You kissed me. You were drunk."

"I wasn't talking about then. What of the other night, then? If I'd forgotten anything, hmm? What of a few minutes ago, in your bathroom, naked, wet, and willing? Where d'you think all this soap on me has come from, hm? Did you notice your little Belle appears fresh out of the water?"

"_Killian_." she said hotly, her face flushing.

"Where do you think the mark on her neck came from, crocodile? Who do you think put it there? Not that you'd know, of course, I doubt you'd know what to do when you put your mouth on a woman." he just had to twist his hook in the crocodile's gut. "Ask her to deny it. Demand it, of her."

She caught him in the stomach with a hard elbow again, and shoved herself forward, trying to writhe free of his arm, which clamped down across her chest. His other arm pulled up and wrapped around her waist, fingers digging hard into her side.

"Deny it." he prompted at her jaw line, close enough so that when he spoke, his prickles tickled her skin.

"Let go of me-!" she'd only just started to raise her voice when he let her roll out of his arms and scramble to her feet, though her skirts caught under her and she stumbled. Rumplestiltskin caught her arm, and when she looked up to him to try and explain, she was winded by the expression of hurt on his face.

"Did you kiss him, Belle?" he murmured with no inflection or flair.

"I-... Yes." she replied. "But I _love you_, Rumplestiltskin."

He tightened his grip on her arm.

"You are mine." he agreed, suddenly nasty, reptilian eyes blowing wide black pupils.

"I'm not a thing, I don't belong to either of you. I'm not able to be stolen."

"Beg to differ."

"Shut _up_, Killian!" she said shrilly, voice pitching in her panic. Her hands were in balled fists at her side. Rumplestiltskin's nails dug into her arm tighter still, making her flinch. "Ow, Rum-"

"We're going. I'll be back for _you_." he shot to the pirate, who had reattached his hook and was making long tracks toward his sword.

"Going?" she furrowed her brows, putting one hand over his, pushing slightly. "Rum -"

"You made a deal!" he hissed between his teeth.

"You_ told_ me to leave -" she gasped as his hand tightened.

"Well, now I'm telling you to come back." he seethed. "You say you love me, but you kissed him!"

"You're _hurting_ me." she shoved at his wrist. He growled, swung her around hard enough to make her skid a few metres as she hit the floor, hard on her elbow and knee. She was horrified more so than hurt. Killian looked between the both of them, then took up a stance between her and the imp, sword point aimed at the magician's throat.

Belle got to her feet, and put her hand at his shoulder, which was vibrating under her palm.

"Stop this." she said shakily, now staring wide eyed at Rum, who was baring all his teeth in a feral and cruel sneer. "You can't cast me out and take me back as you please, Rumplestiltskin. I haven't even spent the day with my father."

"I don't care. You belong to me. Your heart is mine. We made a deal._ Forever_."

Killian's entire body was vibrating, she corrected the prior notion.

_This is what it means to look on a desperate man._

She was hurt, so hurt, by his cowardice that started this whole mess and the treatment of Killian, who despite the lies, she still held onto her fondness. His underhandedness was always a part of him - his sneakiness, his stealing, his purposes he had never shied from, so she was used to this.

He wasn't moving to attack, she noticed, staying in front of her, his hook put out to keep her behind the shield of his arm.

After this whole thing... he was still protecting her.

He wasn't all bad. Neither of them were.

"If you want my heart," she said in a small, scared voice, moving to the pirate's side. "You're going to have to take it out of my chest." she was trembling. Killian just about dropped his sword and turned his head to stare at her.

"You didn't want my love the first time. I should've learned. So come on, then, Rumplestiltskin. You want me back in the castle with you?" her voice cracked. Tears started falling. She took tentative steps forward. "I'm not going willingly again."

It was wrong, so wrong of her, to do this. She loved him, entirely, her heart was already his. But with the dashing pirate and the admittance of kisses - how could he think any less of himself than he already had? That was her fault. But he was in a cruel state of mind. She was certain he'd never really hurt her... but he'd already gouged fingertip shaped wounds into her arm, and Belle was many things, but she was not stupid.

He was in a dark place, a terrible mood. If he inflicted injury on her once, he would do it again.

"I don't bloody think so!"

Killian slid his hook into her skirt and tried to yank her back, but the hook had turned into a snake, which wrapped around his wrist and hissed into his face, baring it's fangs. While he struggled with the ever growing serpent, she waited for the imp's decision.

"You..." he stared at her, his chest raising and falling with heaved breaths. "Want... Him."

"No." she whispered. "I want you."

"But you..." he blinked, cocked his head. "You don't want... to come home... with me..."

She could feel tears break the barrier of strength and pour from her eyes.

"This is home." she said softly. He jerked, his spasming eye now twitching every second as he stared back at her. She could almost hear something breaking in his mind. "Rum, please."

"Goodbye, Belle."

And he disappeared in a swirl of purple smoke. The flames on the doors ceased - they banged together, still shut with a heavy wooden beam. Her father's voice bellowed through the wood, she could feel the panic pulsing through the air. There were men trying to break down a door made to prevent people getting in by brute force.

She cried out, held onto her chest, her heart audibly breaking. She fell to her knees, bent over double, her face screwed up in total devastation. He might as well shoved his hand down her throat and pulled out her still beating heart, because she felt it any way.

Killian dropped to the ground before her.

"No." he said, and it was broken. "No, no, no- Belle, Belle-?"

His hand went to her shoulder, trembling hard.

"Belle?" he pushed her into sitting, tipping her chin up, searching her chest for a mark. "Belle?"

"He's gone." she said, and looked at him with wide, hopeless eyes. That was when the sobs started - when she fully lost control. "He - He left me!"

He exhaled a long breath, then pulled her roughly to his chest, winding tight arms around her. She was screaming her agony into his shoulder, tearing at his shoulders like she was trying to rip him in two, to crawl into his shell and wear it like an armor. As it was, she barely ripped his shirt, her arms were shaking too violently, her claws were too weak, nails too blunt.

She was falling apart on the inside.

Her father wrestled her up into standing to see what was wrong, and realizing there were people present, she stopped howling, but could barely regain control of her breathing, which was hiccupped in and sobbed out.

"I'm alright." she sobbed, still rubbing her chest, where her heart now lay in broken shards.

"What happened?"

Killian got to his feet, watched the men around them put her hysteria down to a begrudging womanly fear, call her panic unnecessary and over done. None of the men, he knew for sure, had ever lost the love of their lives.

He was content with Rumplestiltskin and the hurt he'd seen on the man's face. But he was not content with Belle, and her tears.

She could hardly speak - she managed to say he hadn't actually wounded her, but that was all she could explain between bouts of painful sobbing. She looked up at him as he made to stride away, to rid himself of the men's whispers. She broke her father's grip to catch his sleeve - his hook would have to be replaced, as it was beheaded and somewhat scaly, at the present time.

"Are you ... alright?" she asked of him.

_No._

What did she think she was doing, looking after him? Hadn't he just ruined her one true love?

"Never do that to me again." He didn't know how he compressed all of what he was feeling into such a simple sentence.

"That's not an answer to my question." she sniffed, and he spun on her.

"Don't you ever, _ever_ do that to me again!" That time it came out as a bellow. "He's already done this to me once, Belle, I couldn't watch him, not again - your heart - TO HIM! Never again! Don't you ever-!"

"Killian!" She grabbed him, fistfuls of his shirt, and shook him. "It's alright! I'm alright!" She choked on her fury, her mourning, and brought his head to her chest, held him there with both arms. He made a muffled retort but ultimately just sagged against her, his hand on her waist.

"Do you hear it?"

He could, it was racing, pounding against his ear, faster and faster, a reassurance that there was at least still a heart in there to thrash around like that. He was breathing heavy, arms wrapped nearly twice around her tiny waist, hoisting her off the floor. Now he _wanted_ her to wear him like a shell. He didn't want her to ever be broken again, wanted to stay around her fragility and take any and all abuse aimed to afflict her.

He didn't know if that included from himself, or not.

"Don't... Don't ever..._never_, again, woman, I nearly- " He looked up at her, planting his chin on her chest, entirely reminiscent of having pulled her out of the ocean. "I'm tired of saving you."

She choked a laugh, pressed her cheek against his forehead.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't do that to me." he just held her, breathing hard. "Ever. Again."

"It's not going to matter." she trembled. "He's... not coming back."

He dropped her to his height, steered her face up to his, thumb wiping over both cheeks, collecting tears that just kept falling.

"I know you aren't going to want to hear this..." he murmured. "But I'm glad he's gone. No-" he caught her fist and knocked it away, pulled her close and tucked her under his chin. She struggled only lamely.

"I'd wish you'd stop hitting me, woman."

"What is going on, here?" her father was watching his daughter and this man - who he now noticed had only one hand. "Belle? What's going on?"

"Nothing." she tried to keep her face straight, but lying had never come easy to her concerning her father. "Nothing is-" she choked on that though, and Killian pulled her back into a hug.

"I think now would be a good time to tell Sir Maurice of what you saw, boy." drawled a particularly dark voice. Belle knew it was Gaston without having to look up to confirm it - she held onto Killian tighter, and he reciprocated.

"I saw them kissing, lordship." said another guard. "On the path, on their way to the castle."

"Belle!" she shyly raised her eyes to her pale faced father. "Is it true? Did you kiss this man?"

"Lot of people seem to be hung up on that." Killian murmured.

Belle whispered her sad sounding affirmation and the knight deflated, looking between the two of them.

"And do you love him, Belle? Is that it?" he inflated quickly, something connecting behind his eyes. "Did you mean to tell me you'd fallen in love with this man, darling? Because I could knight him and have him wed you-"

"He's a pirate!" Gaston blurted, then took long strides, shoving the nosy guard out of his way. "My liege, I implore you. This man is none other than the dread pirate Captain Hook!"

"I take it this would be the aforementioned Gaston, love?" he knew the nickname would send them all reeling, which it did, rather effectively. "Perfectly charming fellow, indeed."

"Mind your tongue with me, _pirate_!" the man drew his sword. Killian was not amused.

"Or you'll what?" he said slowly, rubbing gentle circles on Belle's shoulder. He, in reality, couldn't do much at all if the knight should chose to charge him. The flicker of his eyes told him that chivalry was not dead, and the knight wouldn't dare endanger the woman sobbing at his chest.

"S-Stop it." she said, lifting her head. "Put your sword down, Gaston." she sniffed, scrubbed her face. With trembling, lying lips, she went on:

"He means neither of us harm. He's- He's done more than enough damage today."

"Belle - A pirate?" her father was shaking his head, all the color blooming in his cheeks again. He made a sharp line across the air, as if knocking down his own notion of knighting and marrying him to his little girl. "No."

"It doesn't matter what his profession is." she clung to him tighter. "He's protected me and he's saved-"

"A pirate, Belle! No less, Killian Jones!"

"Papa-!"

"No!" he was going blotchy red, the same way his daughter did when she was particularly furious. "Do you love him?"

"What gave you that impression?" she wiped her tears. Speechless, the father waved desperately communicating hands at her clinging to the man, and him returning the cling, watching the scene from under half lowered lashes. "No, I don't love him. But even if I did-!"

"Seize him!" was the first words he could enunciate.

"If you hurt him," she said dangerously, and shifted to face him more fully. "I'll never forgive you."

Needless to say, it was a very bad time for their crew to come in as the hyperactive and surly pirates they were, all rum stained bandanas and swords and grubby pants. They'd left Will and at least five other men on board in the event it was stolen - they stopped upon seeing the debacle that was Belle's hysteria and Killian's flat stare.

"Oh." Smith said, and cleared his throat. "Hello. I'm Smith."

"Not the time, lad." Killian advised dryly.

"These men are good men, even if they call themselves pirates." she looked on them all fondly, through steadily swelling, reddening eyes. "They're more selfless and caring than any of the men I've ever known. They crave adventure and glory in exchange for nothing but a show of guts."

"Guts for glory!"

"Shut up, Aladin."

She still laughed, even if there was tears and more clinging.

"They've been nothing but honest and kind to me. They're knowledgable and- and they're noble in their own way, and-"

"You don't know what you're saying." Gaston interjected. "You've had a very emotional day, Belle, you're not thinking properly. Let me just escort these vagabonds -"

"I know exactly what I'm saying, Gaston! How dare you belittle my crew? They-" she continued on in a louder voice, over his indignant protests. "-pirates or no, managed to do what you, as a full trained knight, neglected to, so you can apologise or I'll knock an apology out of you." she inflated, now giving the illusion of standing in front of Killian, though they were on par.

"Trust me. She's been practising plenty." Killian mused, raising a slow brow.

"You - stay out of it!" the young knight growled, drawing his sword.

"Or you'll what?" his upper lip pulled back in a sneer.

"Seize him." her father uttered. Belle opened her mouth to protest but was drowned out by the boom of Gaston, striding forward: "SEIZE THEM ALL!"

Belle just about broke his face on her fist. He made a noise like a yelp as her fist connected with the bridge of his nose, and she was yanked back by two guards, while Killian drew his sword and began to fight. Laurence was simply picking men up and tossing them off kilter, but he was one of the first to be detained. It was not in his nature to fight.

Smith and Kong just about ruined the advancing guards by themselves. Kong was spinning and kicking and Smith's furiously fighting fists beat swords out of hands before they could inflict any damage. Abu shrieked and found a high perch, tossing down candles, his little hat, and poo as ammunition. Killian was surrounded by three guards with swords, all attacking him to seriously injure. He was batting their blades away with practiced ease, swinging the hilt of his weapon into a man's skull.

He looked up just as Belle was dragged away, a man with an arm and a leg on either side of her, as she fought with all the fury she could muster. He looked winded, shocked - he glanced at the two men, back to her face, and shouted for her. She wrestled one arm free and reached for him, desperate, but the doors closed between them and the guard stopped her smacking him by trapping her wrist in his bruising fist.

Her father continued leading two men who lost their grip on her more than once. She was carried into her old room - dusty, untouched, but for a dip in the bed where her father had apparently sat and wept for her loss. He allowed the men to sit her on a chair and hold her by the shoulders, speaking rapidly while he backed toward the door.

"It's for your own good, Belle, that man isn't worth your attention, I saw the way he looked at you - how you looked at him - you'll be married to Gaston, someone who can provide for you, give you stability, a home near-by, safety-"

"LET ME GO! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!"

"I'll make it go away, my girl, I'll take care of it, don't you worry your pretty little-"

"SHUT UP! GET OUT!" she wrenched one hand up, punched the guard under his chin, causing blood to spray out his mouth, all over her dress. They both let go and bolted for the door - she wasted no time in tossing the chair at them, making it lodge open a slice. She ran for it, to leaver it out of the way, when Abu skipped over it and hopped up into her dress folds, chattering angrily.

By the time she got there, they'd pushed the chair through and slammed the door closed - she fell to her knees, breathless with agony, howling into the wooden frame. She first screamed for them to let her out, that they didn't understand, that they were her friends, that they shouldn't be hurt. She bellowed for Killian to get her out, to take her away, to let her know he was at least safe from harm - that Laurence was well, that Smith was okay, that Aladin had seen where Abu had gone. Then she howled for Rumplestiltskin, to listen, to come for her, to understand. A few hours into begging and pleading for someone to just listen to her, Sir Maurice returned with some food and some mead and tried to talk to her - she shouted sounds at him until he went away.

He was just another man who locked her in her precious china cabinet and refused to listen.


	23. Chapter 23

I'm not going to lie, Dunce and Peg-Leg are probably some of my favorite OCs ever.

This story is not yet finished!

Aude

xx

* * *

The nervous, scrawny youth was shoved into the cell with the pirates.

They were all shackled in the coldest of the dungeons, under a sagging latrine. Laurence had a thick metal collar around his neck, Kong was tied spread eagle, Smith had his elbows touching behind his back, suspended, weighted by his own body, and Phil had both hands in thumbscrews, which were nailed to the wall beside Killian. He had gauged a guard's eyes out with his thumbs, and as such was subjected to a slightly more terrible prison sentence.

Killian was not only minus a hook, but positioned directly underneath the dripping latrine waste. He was as small as he could make himself, marinating in his fury, arms on his legs, propped up on the floor. No body spoke as the herald unraveled his scroll by the guards flicking torchlight. Everyone was in varying stages of shock and pain.

"It is hereby the word of the lord Sir Maurice of Hyrule," the youth began in a nervous prattle. He took a breath, cleared his throat. "That his returned daughter is betrothed to the noble and knighted Sir Gaston de Pompsey, who will take her hand and wed her by a fornight's moon."

He cleared his throat again.

"It is - It is also decreed by the aforementioned Sir Gaston that the men accused of piracy and abuses laid against the guards of Hyrule are sentenced to hang by their necks until dead, tried by the gods and found guilty."

Killian lifted his eyes, fixed a dark stare on the lad, who was shaking violently. He gulped, flicked the paper closed, and tucked it under his arm.

"His lordsh-ship wished me to inform you that your h-hanging will be witnessed by the town and by the newly weds." he uttered a small oath for their souls, turned on his heel, and scurried away. The guards spat on the back of Laurence's head, kicked up dirt on Mr. Smee - who got a mouthful and promptly started choking on it.

"Let's see you do that when we're out of these chains!" Aladin snapped. "Yours is the cowardice!" he went to continue but he had a rock kicked into his gut, winding his up and coming tirade short.

There was silence, darkness, once more.

"Dunce?" that was Peg-Leg, without his leg and chained to a wall. He was dragging himself forward, through sewage slush and mud, to his soul mate. "Dunce, lad, where're you?"

"I don't wanna hang, Pete." said a small voice in reply.

"S'alright, my man." he found his shape in the darkness, stretched, but couldn't quite make his fingertips reach. "What've they got on you, hm? Are you hurtin', love?"

"N-No, just, irons on me legs." he tried to break the chains with his hands.

"Stop that, you'll wear yourself out." his gruff voice was low, as if to try and keep from the other men. "I can't reach you, darlin', c'mere."

Dunce fumbled in the dark, found Pete's useless leg, and pulled himself forward to wrap his arms around the elder man. He was heaving, rocking, while the soul mate had to try and clam him down with nothing but sweet sounding lies and a tight hug.

They were there for perhaps ten minutes more, hurting and restrained. Smith was in too much pain, and was heaving, throwing up only bile. Laurence couldn't even speak to help him calm down - the collar about his throat was too tight, he had problems breathing, let alone talking.

Chase, beside Killian, tipped his head back onto the wall.

"Well." he said dryly. "I told you so, Jones. I told you this woman was bad news."

"This wasn't her fault!" snapped Phil, twisting around to fix him with a hairy eyeball. "You saw how she fought for us, you cold bastard!"

"And you were all so smitten with her." Phil went on, his voice raising in anger. "Well, where is she now, then? Where is she when we-?"

There was a commotion above them, the loud thump of a heavy man hitting the floor hard. Swords were drawn and a gate was slammed closed. Metal screamed against metal, men hollered, armour clanked. Then silence once more, only this time accompanied by a glowing, advancing light.

Abu galloped around the corner, ducked through the bars, and screeched his chatter as he flung himself into Aladin, who could only voice his happiness at retrieving his friend. Then the torch was punched through the dirt, standing upright, as Belle put her sword to he sheath and fumbled with her lock picking equipment.

"Sorry I'm late!" she panted. "Ten guards. I thought there'd be less." She looked pale, with dirt on her nose and blood dripping from a shallow wound on her left bicep, but little else seemed wrong with the female warrior.

"Oh, Laurence!" she ran straight for the big man, unlocking his collar with violently shaking hands, catching him as he fell, hugging him tightly.

"It's good to see you too." he said, running a fond hand over her hair. "Help me now with Simon, please."

"Smith - I'm so sorry -" he was the next one, who Laurence needed to help walk. The big blonde said nothing - he had tears running down his face, with spasms in his shoulders that just wouldn't cease, but he did sag gratefully against her for his thanks.

She went through and unlocked them all, quicker and quicker, having to hold onto Dunce a little longer as he sobbed about being hanged onto her shoulder.

"I'd never let them." she promised him, rubbing his shoulder. "Come now, Dunce, be brave and help Peggy walk, please?"

"I-I- I can do it." he wiped his face, trying to catch his breath. "I can help."

"Thank you." she wiped her own eyes, fiddled and shook around the cripple's locks. She bounded out of the way as Dunce yanked him up to properly blubber all over his shoulder, hugging him tight, pressing grateful, wet kisses on whatever part of him he could reach. Peg-Leg allowed it, his arms tight around the younger, face hidden.

She unscrewed Phil's thumbs - he gave her a chaste kiss right on the mouth - and knelt before Chase, undoing his bonds before Killian, her hands under his chin, tinkering with metal until one fit the lock of his collar.

"What are you doing?" he was so, so confused.

"Someone needs to steer the boat." she dead panned.

He couldn't help but grin.

"Right you are, princess."

He thought she might help him stand, but alas, he had wounded her. She skipped away to help Kong, while he got to slip around by himself. Not one of those men turned to check on him, and that hurt, though he managed to still his lips from moving and get to his feet by himself.

"Where to now?"

"We can't go back up the entrance, there will be too many to take on - besides the fact, most of you are in no condition to fight, we do have to make it to the Roger yet." she yanked the torch out of the ground. "This castle was firstly built as a fort to retreat to during the war. There are other ways out, in case we were ever picketed in and set on fire." she motioned with the flame in the opposite direction as up, and started to charge along.

"How do you know it's the right way?" Chase ventured.

"I'm following the rats." she said, sure and steady. She lifted the torch, peered into a fork in the tunnel.

"I don't see any rats." the redhead sneered, and stepped in front of her, his face pale and grey eyes sharp.

The look she gave him in return was calm. Her voice, however, was emotionally charged, and the way her hand changed grip on the torch gave him the distinct impression she was going to swing the flame at his head.

"I do." she glared at him to make a point. "I'm following the droppings. Now get out of the way or hold the torch."

He stepped aside, let her storm past. He received a few dark looks for his efforts, but the men were either too busy helping others or too damn tired to do much about his insolence. There was a minute more of blindly charging along, when they came to a dead end.

"You're _useless_-" Chase started to hiss, but Belle casually reached out, and slid the wall up into the roof, revealing daylight, punching them all in the eyes.

They were over looking the harbor, on the face of a mild slope, separated from sand and ocean by farmlands. She turned the torch upside down and put it out in the dirt, before swinging aside to let them file out. She closed the wall behind them, blending into the rock face, and proceeded to get under Smith's other arm to help him get to the ship.


	24. Chapter 24

There was blurry noise. Warm hands. He had no idea what anyone was saying. Who was speaking?

"Wha'?"

"You need to rest." Belle repeated firmly, and took his hook and wrist into her hands. "You've been awake for nearly four days. You'll run yourself dead. Will and Chase will keep an eye on things."

And without really protesting, he followed her.

Belle's father had been chasing them for days, four of them, apparently, and he'd used nearly every trick in his catalogue of evasive movements to get out of their sights. The knight had given a good chase, had disappeared behind thick smog some fourteen hours ago, but Killian had insisted they remained on high alert, remained ready to defend should the nobleman attack.

He barely even noticed when she lead him into the cabin, sat him on the bed, then went and locked the door behind her. When he did realize where he was, his eyebrows raised.

"Don't get excited. You're likely to pass out if you do." she went to him and took his coat buttons in her hands, undoing them with nimble fingers. He just let her, yawning quietly into his shoulder. She eased the leather from his arms and folded it, putting it over the back of a chair. She then went about undoing the corset and belt from his stomach, before gently taking his hook and twisting it free.

She sighed, got a bowl and some water, putting it on the bedside table before easing off his boots and the lacing on the front of his shirt. She pulled that off over his head - he sagged, his eyes already on the way to closing, when he felt her press a damp cloth to the back of his neck.

She dabbed the accumulation of three (four? How long had he been awake?) day's worth of nervous, exhausted sweat from his shoulder blades, from his chest, lower back, over and under his arms. He just lifted and leaned when she lead him to doing it, his eyelids heavy.

Finally she wiped his face clean of charcoal, and patted him down with a fluffy towel.

"Now, go to sleep." she said, lowering him down to the pillow. He caught her hand.

"I'm sorry." he mumbled.

"Let go of my hand, please."

Had he misread this sign? Was she really just being nice so he didn't dirty the sheets she slept in, or so he didn't drop dead of sleep deprivation? Had she only broke him out of the dungeon so that she could have someone to 'steer the boat'?

"Belle," he said again, so groggy, so tired. "I'm sorry."

"Let go of my hand."

"Are you listening? I said I'm sorry."

"I heard you the first time." her voice was calm, but methodical in her delivery. "Let go of my hand, please."

"You don't understand." he said hoarsely, forcing his eyes open, pushing himself up onto his elbow. "You shouldn't be angry with me-"

She ripped her arm away, up into the air, balled into a fist. He closed his eyes, braced for impact, but none ever came. When he cracked open an eye again, her fist was still in the air, but her expression was wounded, as though flinching back from her had offended her feelings, somehow.

"I'm sorry, Belle." he said again, and reached for her fist. "I am. I didn't want to hurt you, but I damn well wanted to hurt him. He deserved it, he did, I swear. Don't be angry with me, love. I'm sorry." he caught the fist, and pulled her arm down, over his chest. When she landed he could feel her shivering, trembling, barely repressing the sad noises in her throat.

"How long's it been since you last slept?" he said into her hair, but she didn't answer. She couldn't make any noises that weren't wrought of tears. And as much as he wanted to stay conscious and properly apologise for hurting her, there was no way he was physically able to do it.

* * *

He woke several hours later to see he was on one side of the bed, while she had the other. She was cuddled against his pillow, tucked between her knees, pulled tightly to her chest. Her mouth was pursed, her lids lightly closed.

He ripped the pillow from her and threw it behind him like a stubborn child, to see her eyes pop worriedly open. But he just situated himself where that pillow had been, his head next to her heart and arm around her waist.

"Are you alright?" she asked against his forehead.

"Hm." he said, and fell back asleep.

* * *

When they woke later, not much else had changed. He was still pressed against her chest, but her fingers were threaded through his hair, keeping him there. She made a noise when he shifted his scruffy face against her skin - she lifted his fringe with gentle fingertips to see his eyes.

"Alright, love?" he said, knuckling sleep from his eye.

"How are you?" she asked politely, her voice hoarse.

"Hmm." he didn't leave it unnoticed that she'd not answered him. "How long was I asleep?"

"A long while. It's barely sunrise." and she'd sent him to bed yesterday afternoon. It was a lot of hours. "You barely moved. I was concerned you weren't going to wake."

"And you were just watching over me like a guardian angel, all that time?"

"Of course not." she snorted, and sat up. He rolled off of her, stretched on his bed, eyes still blurry. He stifled a yawn and had to sit up, she came back with some bread, cheese, and a cup of water. "You have to eat, then go back to sleep."

"I'm not tired."

"I'm not listening." she sat by his legs and picked at her own bread, watching him with hawk eyes as he at first, only played with the cheese. When he smelt it, it was enough to stir his hunger and he scarfed down the lot, even accepting hers with a grudging thanks.

And when he was full, he was sleepier than he had been, and she seemed to expect that, taking the cup from his hand and rolling him onto his back. She felt his forehead, her amusement hollow as he knuckled his eyes again.

"You do have freckles." she noted, and connected a few with her fingertip. "Laurence said you'd be this way, and I'm told if you argue, I'm to fetch him so he'll sit on you and wait until you go to sleep. He said you'd be compliant if I asked nicely."

"When did you speak to Laurence, exactly?"

"I left to ask how long you should sleep. When I first got up."

"You just slid back into my arms?" he cocked a brow.

Her face remained steady, but the words that next came out of her mouth burned him like fire.

"In your arms is one of the last places I want to be." she smoothed her shirt, got to her feet. "Go back to sleep."

He reached for her but she'd already left the bedside, pulling the key from around her neck.

"I'm locking you in." she informed him. "I'll be back later."

"Belle," he said roughly, and sat up. "Don't be like that, lass-"

"Annoying, isn't it? To be locked up by someone you trust?" she whirled on him, yanking the door open. "Welcome to my world."

"Belle," he stumbled to his feet, slamming his shoulder into the wall. "I said I'm sorry-"

"Apology, _not, _accepted." she returned through her teeth, her usually coloured cheeks gone a stone cold white. She slammed the door and he ran, fumbling with the handle, but it was already locked. He beat at it with one fist, calling her name with a rough voice, but she didn't once make a reply, not even to ask him to shut up.

He went to the draw for his hooks - the ones he kept spare, having broken several in the past - but they were gone. Inside, a note, in tiny cursive penmanship. Or, pen-lady-ship.

_'Go to sleep. You'll be given your hooks when you wake up.'_

He scrunched the note with a growl, tossing it away as he yanked open another draw.

_Empty._

He checked for his lock picking tools - _gone_ - and other things he knew the location of that should help him unlock the door - _missing_.

Of course she knew where he kept everything. She had been living in the room for weeks. The fact that she'd gone through draws and then had balls enough to- to- ban him, from his own things, was enough to warrant fury from a regular man. But as it stood, he was several days worth of sleep deprivation into a tantrum before he realized it.

He found it morbidly satisfying when he upset the entire dresser, kicking the mirror so that it smashed, like he was able to vent his frustration on the various forms of imported goods in the immediate vicinity.

He was frustrated that he was locked in his own cabin, unheeded by his own crew, and the repercussions of a revenge well taken were now making his life this difficult. He threw a good and proper tantrum, one he hadn't seen the like of since his childhood, ripping what could be torn, snapping what could be broken. He finished on the bed, his head pounding and hand flexing, knuckles bloodied and bones bared.

If any one had heard the commotion, they didn't knock or stomp to let him know. And with nothing else to ruin, he finally did as he was told, curling into the last surviving pillow, and going to sleep.


	25. Chapter 25

Belle considered herself a strong woman. She'd always been tougher than the rest of the girls she knew, and she could claim that title rather modestly. But when Will went to try and put a stopper in the Captain's rage, she had cause to reconsider being so modest.

Mostly because she'd lasso'd him short and reeled him to her side like a prize fish.

"Let him be." she said flatly.

"Are you sure?" the youth said uneasily, his one eye going over the calm on her face. "He sounds... Pretty upset."

"Let him keep his anger from ruining any body else's precious possessions." she undid the knot from the center of his chest, and he nodded.

"Aye aye, ma'am." he said sheepishly, and retreated up to his crow's nest.

She turned to see the door buckling under the pressure of his shoulder. She wanted to bite out something about him hurting the door but her tongue wouldn't allow it - her whole body was in rebellion. She was tired and she hurt in all sorts of ways, her wounds were still open and bleeding and helping Killian get out of prison had only salted them.

She turned, stalked up the stairs, peering down at the maps Chase had unrolled at her behest.

"So. Agraba." she said lightly, tracing a line from their current position to where the fabled land was. "Given the weather keeps so kind, we'll be there within the fortnight."

"Give or take." he said stiffly. "Why Agraba?"

"I was told it was where we were going." she lifted her eyes to him, unafraid. "Or was that part of the lie?"

He shrugged sharply.

"Jones doesn't think that far ahead. That's what I'm for."

"What, he's the brawn, you're the brain?" she said with little humour.

"Something like that. I'm the brain, he's more the... face." he blinked slowly at her. "It was me who put the idea into those men's heads to take you down to the mermaids, you know."

She hadn't, actually, but her heart was still reeling too wildly from after the loss of her love, and the loss of what had appeared to be a great friend. She gave him no reaction other than her undivided attention.

"They weren't so clever as to do it themselves." he went on, casually. "They were discussing perhaps - using, you, to better pleasures - and I happened to overhear. I mentioned that getting rid of you would probably mean we'd dock for a while in Riverrun so they could have their share of whores while Jones went off and combed the sea for you."

She looked down at the map, finding 'Mermaidia' with her eyes.

"I knew you couldn't swim. So I said to simply leave you in the water and that would be a less messy death, better on their conscience. I don't enjoy inflicting suffering on people." he looked under his feet, where they could still hear growled curses and smashing pottery. "Unlike him, for example. Which is another part of why he didn't realize why I'd done what I'd done."

"And why had you?" she asked him, picture of innocence, though in her mind, she'd bashed his head against the table about thirty times already. "Done what you had done?"

"Because I knew it could only end in tears. He would end up hurt. Had you have stayed missing, he would've been angry that he'd lost a chance at wounding the crocodile at his heart. He would've, no doubt, looked and looked for you, but he has his limits, contrite to what he thinks. My theory that you'd run away with a boat and supplies would've been what he'd fallen back on. He would've forgotten you and gone on to his next move, but he would've been annoyed, not hurt."

He didn't appear the least bit bashful about organizing her to be culled like a stray dog. He tucked his hands behind his back and went on, regardless of her balled fists, and slightly narrowed eyes.

"He'd told me and the poet that we were to act as his backup plan. If you ever opened up to either of us about your love, there, we were supposed to tell him anything useful. No point in hating the bard now - he told Jones he was in the wrong, that you were in love with him, that it was going to end in a mess. He warned him, swore to him, he could see it coming."

And he had, in fact, tried to tell her the same thing, over a game of cards. It seemed so far away.

"I kept my distance because I am no good with women. I don't know why he thought I was a candidate for his little scheme. I can only logically conclude that it was only because I'm involved with everything he does, and have been, for the longest division of my life." he took a steady breath. "I call him my best friend, though I doubt the sentiment is reciprocated. He's much, _much _more than I will ever amount to being, and I believe I live vicariously through him. Which is why it is in my best interests to tell you that Killian Shae Jones is not a bad man. He is a stubborn, emotionally driven, twit of a man, but he isn't bad."

"I could've told you that." she said fairly, and he baulked, his expression confused.

"Then why have you locked him away like a misbehaving child?"

"Laurence told me he needs sleep." she looked back to the map. "Not to mention the returned favour is incredibly satisfying, and I simply will not deal with him. I'm not ready to."

"We need our Captain."

"I know. I'll let him out. I just won't deal with him when I do."

"You keep saying 'deal'. What is it you imply, by that?"

"I'm implying that I don't want his apologies, because they're not going to be accepted."

"Social convention dictates you accept the apology regardless of your feelings on the manner."

"We're on a ship in the middle of the ocean. If societal standards reach us here, we're not good enough pirates." she very casually, very calmly, looked at him. "Is that all, Mr. Chase?"

He stared at her, confused, brows drawn down.

"I suppose so, lady Belle."

"Good." she said, and stalked away.

* * *

Belle didn't discuss what she was feeling or what her plans were. She didn't know what to say to either of those things. Part of her was very, very worried that Killian would force her to be stranded in Agraba, but the other part of her was independent enough to convince herself that, in that case, she'd make ends meet by transcribing tomes, or something.

In the fortnight, Killian had tried to corner her, but she was not so stupid as to let that happen. She sat meals with her friends and committed herself to working the sails everyday, which her body seemed to be rejecting most of. She'd thrown up violently several times since rejoining the crew on the sea - Laurence had promised her that physically, there was nothing wrong with her.

Emotionally, however, there was all sorts of things wrong, and even if she acknowledged they were there, that didn't mean she didn't do much but sweep them under repressed memories and keep herself wildly occupied.

* * *

They were one day off arriving in the desert kingdom when she entered the cabin and found a wild Killian Jones lounging in the middle of the bed, arms behind his head. He was waiting for her to start verbally abusing him, apparently, because his body was tensed for a fight and his chin was raised in defiance. Instead of saying anything, however, she calmly turned around, and walked right back out again.

She'd made it across the deck to the stairs leading to the men's hammocks when he growled out her name.

"_Belle. _You can't avoid me forever, love!"

"Yes I bloody well can!"

"I'm not putting up with this tantrum throwing _bullshit, _woman."

She shrugged and kept walking, marching to the stairs with her nose in the air.

"Oi. You can't do that!"

She had a flash back to the first fight they ever had. It made her nostalgic for the opportunity to get away from him, go back to Rumple and live her happily ever after. But no. She had trusted him, even when he'd told her not to.

He grabbed her shoulder and spun her to face him. She shoved him in the chest, decided that it wasn't enough and followed that up with another shove, following him as he backed up. She pushed him harder, out of her face, and turned to leave again.

"You turn your arse around and we hash this out, or I'm leaving you in Agraba!"

"Good!" she snapped, and tried, again, to retreat to the men's hammocks. He jolted forward and went around, barring her entrance with his arms outstretched. She briefly entertained the idea of shoving him so he fell down the stairs.

"We. _Need_. To. Talk."

"No. We don't."

"You're such a-!" he made a claw, shook it at her. "You_ infuriate_ me!"

"Good! You deserve to be infuriated!"

"_Woman_-"

"I have a name, Killian Shae!" she inwardly noted that he was blushing at his full given name. "You started this mess, you deal with the fallout. I am not the one who walked into your life and demanded your company. You strutted into mine, and you ruined everything, so you can just take the fury and deal with it!"

"I will _not_." he said shortly, and jabbed his finger at her face, inches away. Part of her wanted to bite that finger off and spit it back at him. No wonder Rum had taken his hand. "This is_ my_ ship, lady Belle, and you abide by my rules, or you get off."

"Consider me gone then!" she snapped. "As if I want to spend any more of my hard earned freedom under the likes of _you_!"

"Good!" he snarled. "Go! Leave! And stay gone! We don't need you-!"

"Do not speak for the men like they cannot speak for themselves." she said through her teeth. "You might be a cold, heartless bastard, incapable of even the slightest affection outside himself, but I know they aren't. They-" she pointed at the doorway behind him, the gathered shadows at the bottom of the stairs. "-_They_, are better than you. And they are the _only reason_ I ever went to the dungeon and broke your sorry arse free. So you thank them, next time you see them."

"Get out of my sight before I hit you." he said flatly. "I mean it. I'm an inch away from throwing you over board myself."

"Can't take a dose of honesty, Captain?" she could feel the way her mouth was pinching, a learned habit from her mother. She knew she looked like she was sucking a lemon, but her rage prevented her from removing the sour look off her face. He turned his eyes away, jaw locking and grinding, his arms falling to his sides.

She turned and stomped, slamming the cabin door behind her. She fully expected him to follow, so she held onto the locked handle and leaned back with all her weight, pulling hard to stop him following.

But he didn't.

When she realized that, she sagged, dropped the handle, and burst into tears. She tried to smother them behind both hands, but the tears just kept falling. She tucked her feet under her rear and pulled her legs to her chest, hiding in the relative safety of her own body. She didn't want to leave, she didn't want to stay.

Without Rumplestiltskin in her life, she didn't have a want, a goal, something to strive to achieve. She was lost, floating, unsure and alone, again, so alone. And even just realizing that she'd relied on him as she did, that she wasn't as tough or as independent as she said she was, broke her heart all over again.

Metal scratched metal. The door handle bent.

"Look, _princess_-" but when the door stopped opening, obstructed by her hiding behind it, he leaned, stuck his head through the gap, and deflated.

"I'm- not a -" she sniffed, peered at him between cracked fingers. "Princess, you _bastard_."

He sighed heavily.

"Wish you wouldn't cry, love."

She kicked the door, which bounced off his head.

"Ow."

She couldn't help but giggle. That giggle turned into a sob, which stampeded out of her, turning into mourning and hysteria that she could no more control than she could control the moon. She tried to hide it, tried to control it, and she guessed she probably could've, if Killian hadn't come to kneel beside her and put his arms around her.

It was like - by trying to hold her together, the easier she came undone; she turned into his shoulder and allowed him to comfort her, even if he was the reason she was so devastated to begin with.

"I'm sorry, love." he said into her hair.

"He just - _left_ - me." she heaved breath into her aching lungs. "So _- easy _- for him to- just - _walk away_!"

"No one's ever accused him of being smart, darling." he picked a spot on the roof and stared at it, hoping she wouldn't look up and see his shame. He at least wanted to maintain the illusion of strength.

"Your - fault." she sniffed bitterly, rubbing the heels of her hands hard against her eyes. "This - is _- your _- fault."

"It is." he couldn't disagree. Of course it was his fault.

"If - I had tried - to break you - and Milah -"

"I wouldn't have let it happen."

"No - of course not -" she wailed something that didn't sound like words. "- Milah - wouldn't be _able_ - to leave!"

"Milah had but to say one word, and I'd let her walk away from me."

"Liar!" she punched his chest, but compensated for the pain she caused by leaning further into his embrace. "You're a - bloody - _liar_!"

He considered that.

"Alright. I wouldn't of ever let Milah go anywhere."

"Would've - locked her up." she choked. "Tossed her - in the - dungeons - kept her close - like - Rum-ple - did to - me!"

"No. I wouldn't of put her in the dungeon." he glanced to the bed. "Probably just held out through what ever point she was trying to make. Milah didn't throw tantrums, she made points. Which is why I suppose I'm willing to ride through yours, most of the time. It's harder to disprove a point then brace through a tantrum." his hand went over her hair.

"I'll - try harder - then." she sniffed.

He chuckled without any real humour, but it made her laugh, and laughing was good.

There was a small silence where her breathing caught and she tried to calm down as much as possible. She didn't know how she'd gone from being held by the pirate to having her legs over his lap, being rocked with her fists curled around the collar of his shirt, but she was, and she was enjoying it. He was humming something low, soothing.

She wiped her face roughly, pushed her cheek closer to his shoulder, hiding her burning eyes from the world. She was utterly miserable, she hated herself - but she couldn't actually find it in her heart to hate either Rumplestiltskin or Killian. She hated what they had done to her, to make her feel these hateful things, but she didn't hate them.

They weren't all bad.

She lifted her face to see him. So close, so guilty.

"You stole - Milah."

"I took you from the Queen without you asking me." he darted his stare between both her eyes, as if searching for something in either one. His palm dragged her tears away, his fingers combed hair from sticking to her face. "Milah didn't ask, either. She _begged_ me."

He swallowed, inches away. His voice dropped a notch, went low, like a growl.

"Tell me if you can really steal someone who begs you to take them? To show them the world, break them from a loveless marriage and give them adventure? Something more to wake up to of a morning, and to look forward to at night?"

"She - had a son."

"And she missed him every day."

"She - still - left him." she gulped. He smoothed away the creases on her face before she could start crying again.

"I know it's wrong for the son, but she was miserable. If you had've seen what I saw... Knew the woman I knew..." he softened. "She was lovely. And she was so bright. A star. My second star to the right of the sun. She burned with life, had so much energy to give, had so much strength to shoulder the weights of responsibilities I piled on her. I thought she'd run home after a week, so sure she'd be a couple nights worth of fun and then no more."

He swallowed.

"She issued challenges with every word, dared me to defy them, and of course - I can't resist a good challenge." he winked, smiled. "We were - made, to be together. She was fitted to me, and I accustomed to her, like leather, we learned to mould to each other."

"And you - still love her."

"Nothing will ever touch her." his smile went out like she'd puffed a breath on a candle. "Never again, will I love like I loved her. It isn't a vow I willingly make. I'd give anything to love again."

She rubbed her eyes, leaned away from him sharply, pulling out of his comfort.

"I-" she stopped, pushed up onto her feet, spun on him, her expression caught between hurt and angry. She stabbed a finger at him like she wielded a sword, like he'd done to her. "You- _You_ broke my heart." she wiped her face, took two, three, four steps away from him. He remained on the floor, ready for the tirade to begin.

"I'm al- alone - on a ship full of - friends." she pressed a hand to her chest. "I can't. I just- I can't be alone when I'm just - not. Tell them - you go and tell them, Kill-ian Jones, that I'm leaving. I'm -" she caught her sobbing, retreating further away from him.

"I'm leaving tomorrow. Going t-to Agraba."

"Belle, when I said I wanted you off my ship, I didn't... I wanted you to stop arguing with me. I don't want to hurt you, any more." he lifted his hand and ran it through his hair. "I understand that you hate me and you're angry-"

"I don't hate_ you_." she sniffed. "I hate - what you've done. And why - why you've done it." she swallowed.

"You don't have to leave." he said carefully. "You could stay, if you wanted. I wouldn't... Make you, go."

"I _do_ have to." she retorted. "And you tell them. I'm - not - doing it." she pressed a hand over her mouth, feeling tears building, more sobs trying to jump out of her chest.

"It's _your_ fault. You tell them."

He studied her, eyes going to the hand holding back her tears, the necklace with his key on it. He watched the way she tried to stay in control of her emotions, and how dismally she was failing. He wanted to hold her again but barely refrained, getting to his feet, nodding once.

"Whatever the lady wishes." he murmured, and shut the door neatly behind him.


	26. Chapter 26

She emerged the next morning to a quiet ship. The men who hadn't bonded with her - Chase, first and foremost among their number - were well out of sight. Her friends were in the lead of the congregation come to see her off.

Aladin, who was going to step off the Roger and not return, had one satchel around his shoulder and Abu on the other. He was off to the side, feeding the monkey bits of crusty bread.

Dunce was sulking behind Peg-Leg, trying to hide his size behind the crippled man. He was sniffing quietly, letting tears roll down his face, plop off his chin to Peggy's shoulder. The elder man was grim, arms folded tight across his chest.

Will was sadly swinging on a rope looped like a swing, his one eye trained on a hole she'd thatched on his knee. He was shirtless, so she could see that his chest was heaving.

Smith was the first to say anything, just like the first time they'd met. He came forward with his hand out to shake, a tired smile on his mouth. But she couldn't part with just a smile, so she bypassed it and hugged his waist. He dropped a kiss on her head and returned the squeeze before stepping away.

Laurence was next. He put arms around her and lifted her into the air, so she could see over his shoulder, where Kong was scrubbing his eyes, Phil was looking at his shoes, and Mr. Smee was blowing his nose.

"I'm not dying." she teased, still bundled up in the medic's arms. "I'll see you again."

"No you won't." Dunce grumped at her, setting his chin onto Peg-Leg's shoulder. "You're gonna go back 'n' be a noble and forget us."

"How would I ever forget any of you?" she was properly scandalized. Laurence put her down, his huge hands on her shoulders.

"Be safe, lady Belle." his baritone voice made her knees knock together.

"Sail easy." she offered in a small voice, then went on and hugged the rest of them. Dunce wouldn't let go of Pete - but Pete hugged her for the both of them, a quick squeeze and a pat on the arm. Will just gave her a scathing look and retreated to his crow's nest without a single word.

Killian was at the wheel. She merely glanced his way, but he wasn't looking at her, either. She took the key from around her neck and tossed it to land at his feet. He lifted his chin - still didn't look at her.

_Stubborn ass._

They climbed down to the dock, and she waved. Only Smith returned it. Aladin offered her a handful of grumbling monkey to cuddle as they walked toward the market. She was still miserable. Why was there still such a dark cloud around her head?

_You've traded love for adventure_. she reminded herself. _Killian said that you couldn't have both. _

_Well, Killian's wrong, isn't he? _Such a bitter voice, in reply, a part of her made up only of sulking and anger. _He made the decision for you. He injured your love and you let him. And now you're trying to fill the void with adventure. He's wrong._

_How can he be wrong? Here I am, still moody and in such horrific pain and I'm on my adventure right now_. She considered that, then added_. Without love_.

_To be fair, you tried to get back to your love. But your adventure left that mark on your neck and the love didn't like it. _There was a break in the conscious stream of thought. Then: _Maybe if you loved adventure, like Killian does-_

_Yes, because his is the healthiest way to deal with things. Coming from the man who has outrightly said he will never love again-_

_No_, she stopped walking. Abu made a trill, like a question_. Killian said he'll never love another like he's loved Milah. That doesn't rule out love at all. Just a love like the one he kept reserved for only her._

"Belle?"

_Pathetic of him. _

_It's romantic, not pathetic. _

_You're only agreeing because that's how you feel about Rumplestiltskin!_

_Yes. That's exactly how I feel about Rum. _she stared at Aladin, who raised his brows_. I love him and I will never love another like I love him. But that's not to say I won't love again. Or that I can't have my adventure and my love and everything else. _

_You're alone._

_I'm holding the world's most affectionate monkey._

_An animal! Fair trade for the love of your life - who, may I remind you, left you at the drop of a hat?_

_He left me because he thought I wanted him gone. With a mark on my neck and a pirate standing before me with an arm out to keep me safe; how could he have read the signs any differently?_

_You told him you loved him. And he still left you._

_He's a broken man. _

_And that makes it okay?_

"Belle, uh... Are you feeling-... Well?

She nodded.

_I'm with a single friend in a nation I don't know, while behind me, full grown men weep for my loss on a ship I've called home._

_... Why are you smiling like that?_

"Aladin." she said, quite pleasantly, and handed back Abu. She undid the purse from her waist and passed it to him to, then took his face and kissed both cheeks. She spared one on the top of the little monkey's head and tickled his belly, the way he liked. "I wish you the best."

He peered at the ship over her shoulder, the anchor slowly being drawn out of the water, and cracked a wide grin.

"Luck, lady."

"Thank you." then she turned. And she started running.

Her feet took her faster and faster to the ship, though she could see the dark mass of the anchor just about to break the surface. She put on an extra spurt of speed, arms pumping, and simply jumped - she hit the water feet first, and started kicking before she was even dunked up to her waist. With the force of her launch, she managed to hook her arms round the chain and straddle it, puffing hard.

She rode it up, pulled herself over the ledge of the ship, and casually sauntered onto the deck. Chase just about had a heart failure.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

She raised her eyebrows, wringing out her hair.

"I live here." she blinked at him, like he was the crazy one.

"No. No." he shook his head, planted hands on his hips. "You just- you just left."

"Then I came back." she waved him along. "Problem, Mr. Chase?"

If he did reply - he was gaping like a fish out of water, she doubted he could form a coherent word at all - she didn't hear it. Dunce thudded over to her and picked her up off the floor in a hug, telling her she wasn't allowed to trick him like that, he thought she was actually going. Will stayed in the nest and barely peered over to see what was going on - Phil surmised it was due to him crying his eye out. Killian didn't give her permission, he gave her the key, and that was good enough.


	27. Chapter 27

**NOTE:**

I've upped the rating.

*winky face*

Also, reviews are wonderful, wonderful things.

And they make me post more, faster.

Just sayin'.

Enjoy!

Aude

xx

* * *

It started out with him protecting her from Chase's rudeness. It progressed to him daring to speak to her about casual things like the weather. The next level was him correcting her swordplay.

* * *

Smith kept batting the sword out of her hand, twisting the blade around like it was made out of rubber, yanking the weapon from her grip. It was hot, she was frustrated, and the pirate was fast losing his attention to another, more satisfying pursuit.

Lunch.

"May I?"

She knew Killian was watching - she had started off the lessons with Smith right in front of him, an issued challenge, mostly to see what he'd say. But he'd said nothing.

"May you _what_?"

He nodded to her hand.

"If you think so."

She still hadn't forgiven him. She had a feeling that she would never, ever forgive him.

He carefully repositioned her fingers into a more secure grip - unnatural, a little difficult to maintain, but more secure, certainly. His hook steered her hip forward, and he navigated her foot to slide into position with the tip of his boot.

"Again." he said, and directed her arm in attacking, countering.

He let her go to spin Smith's sword out of his hand, for once, so excited for it that she dropped her own. She clapped, grinned her victory, and hugged him around the neck - there was a moment of pure excitement, but then, '_I'm-hugging-the-man-who-ruined-my-true-love', _and she sprang back, ducking to reclaim the blade.

"Thank you." she said without looking at him, and dragged Smith along to lunch.

* * *

She was still angry with him. She was.

But that didn't stop her from sitting by him at breakfast, and at lunch, and at dinner. She hated what he had done to her and her heart, but she didn't hate the times he showed her where they were headed on a map like she was competent, bid her a good night in his careful drawl, or that one time he came back with a book for her. She nearly cried, when he slid it over the table, saying something blasé about how he thought she might like it. He, of course, knew how fond she was of books, and did it purely to get in her good book.

And it may have given her cause to put him there, if she was going to be completely honest.

Her hate didn't stop her from talking to him with civility, listening to what he had to say, shoving his shoulder when he said something off-color. Her hate didn't stop her from developing other feelings, concerning him, and part of her hoped madly that those feelings would go away. But most of her - directed by those aforementioned feelings - they didn't want it to stop.

It was gradual, and it was pleasant. He was equal parts kind and raunchy, he made her laugh, and he listened to her. He never treated her like a damsel in distress, nor did he treat her like one of the men. She was special to him, and he, special to her.

She never forgot Rum, she just made room for Killian.

* * *

Their union was the stuff out of his fantasies.

In her cabin, he'd been half way through pulling on a spare shirt - all the others had been terrifically putrid - when the door clicked it's lock and small hands eased the fabric back up and over his head.

"Darling, I was trying to put that _on_."

He was steered onto the mattress, and cracked a raunchy grin.

"Easy love, you'll give a man the wrong id-"

"Maybe I'll give the man the right idea." she'd said with a quirked brow. "Did you ever consider that, Captain Jones?"

"Now, what've I told you about calling me that?" At that point, he was still teasing. He had no idea what was about to happen.

"It sounds like an invite." she nodded. "I know. I said it on purpose."

"Belle?" he said, as her hands took a hook and a palm. The palm she moulded to her backside, the hook tucked into the front of her (his) shirt. She let it go and had him nearly pull it off of her, watching the way his Adam's apple bopped. His hand squeezed experimentally, he lifted his eyes to study her reaction.

"Killian." she said in a promising way. "It's been months since you last kissed me."

"Not for lack of trying."

"Did you really expect my forgiveness so easily?" she tilted her head. "I needed time, and I took it. You were better off keeping your distance."

"I'm sorry-"

"Stop apologising to me. I don't think I can ever forgive you, for hurting Rum the way you did." she tilted her head the other way. "But I like you, Killian, and I want your kisses. Call me greedy."

"You're greedy." he swallowed, and pulled the hook down a few slow, torturous inches, revealing more flesh and a shock of bright red lace. "You're stubborn, beautiful, mouthy...perfect."

"You've been talking to Phil."

"These words are my own. My heart's own." he looked up at her eyes, then, pulling her to kneeling on the bed between his wide open legs. He unhooked himself from her shirt and put his arm around her, easing her closer to listen to her heart. It was banging loudly, but the beat was steady. Nervous, ready, waiting.

"Do you know what you're doing, love?"

"I'm staring to think you don't." she mused. "Frankly I was expecting a far quicker reaction, you're making me feel unwanted, Captain- OH!" she squeaked as he picked her up and spun them, easing her down onto the bed again. He twisted the hook out of it's cradle, tossing it over his shoulder.

"Never feel unwanted, when you're with me." he said dangerously. "It's been like nursing the mouth of hell on me, Belle, these months. You are all I can think about. I want to know if you've considered what'll happen after. What do you think is gonna happen after?"

"Round two?" she raised her brows. "Lessons? I'm sure you'll find a reason to keep at it."

"I meant -..." his resistance was wearing thin. He nuzzled her breasts through the fabric of his own shirt (much better on her), causing her hands to go to his hair. Her nails scraped his skull lightly, and he imagined them digging into his spine. He didn't know what to do.

_A gentleman, be a gentleman._

"If you're still going back to your father...?"

"I am."

"But the consequences, Belle-"

"Killian."

"Why would you do this to yourself?"

"There's no reason we shouldn't. I'm very attracted to you, and I know you'll do me right."

He swallowed again.

"Belle-"

"Killian."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I."

"Why?"

"Because I _want_ you."

Before she said that, he had at least a coherent argument on the way out of him. Now it fizzled and went away, slinking into a deep corner of his mind, never to be looked at again. He lifted his eyes to hers, felt her hands go over his head, the needy part of his masculinity urged him on.

"You told me once that if I didn't want you, all I had to was say so. I thought the same would go for the opposite." she held his face in her hands. "I want you, Killian. Damn the consequences."

_Damn being a gentleman._

He wished he could've taken more hours, more time, to prepare and worship her. He managed the clothes slow enough, running his mouth over whatever skin was revealed - he patiently held out through the shyness, the hiding of her body behind her hands and arms and tightly locked thighs.

She wanted to wiggle under the sheets but he wouldn't let her - he guided her hands to his chest and promised that he'd wait, he'd wait for her to disrobe him before he went any further. She didn't look at him the way a lot of women looked at him, much less virgins. She maintained eye contact, steady, constant, eye contact, even when his trousers were gone; she was looking at his eyes, with her chest heaving and fists on his shoulders.

"Are you _sure_?"

"Yes."

She timidly opened her knees. Not enough for him to intrude, just enough for the invitation to be apparent. She had no idea what he was doing when he'd moved his hand there - he just told her to hold on, he knew what he was doing, relax.

When he felt her ready enough, he guided open her legs further, saw her breath hitch and her eyes widen even more.

"Belle, tell me you're sure."

"I am."

"And you know what you're doing?"

"I'm just nervous." she exhaled a shaky breath. "Everyone said it would hurt."

"Well, everyone haven't been with me, have they?" he kissed her brow, hovered over her body. "I'm not going to hurt you if you relax. But you have to relax."

"I trust-" she swallowed. It hurt, that she wouldn't say she trusted him. "I-... I know you know what you're doing."

He pressed kisses on her mouth, little pecks, hand massaging her thigh.

"I'm not going to hurt you." he said against her mouth. "It's not in me to hurt you, anymore."

Her agreement was a strangled hum, her knees tightened on his waist, moving him forward. He leaned into it, positioned himself at the ready, had to ask her again - she looked so fragile, how could he not just, make sure?

"Gods _sake_, man, just _do it _already." she huffed, and pulled him down into a kiss.

He swallowed up her gasps and went slowly, carefully, gently. There wasn't one bit of him that hadn't completely committed to easing into the whole song and dance - there would be other times for speed.

He loved her as carefully as he knew how, which she seemed to like, for the first few minutes. Then she was at the pulling of his hair, heels in his rear, teeth at his shoulder and he picked up the pace, which she certainly liked more.

* * *

She woke with a hollow ache, but not unpleasantly so. Their foreheads were pressed together, and he was dreaming, eyelids flickering in his sleep. She rolled her head on her neck, looking over her shoulder. Somehow she thought it might be different, the aftermath. This must've been what he was talking about.

She lifted her hand, rubbed her eyes, and looked down at their bodies. Their legs were locked together, his hand was possessively on her hip, and she had a likewise hand on his waist. There was nothing to cover them but a sheet, but they were so close they didn't need anything else for the heat their bodies created.

She lifted his hand and moved away, watching him search for her in sleep as she rolled out from under the covers. She paused on the side of the bed, inspecting herself - no blood, no tearing. She'd felt it pop when he'd pushed through but it hadn't hurt, he was good for his word. She pulled on pants, a shirt, quietly made her way to the door.

"Belle?"

He had propped up on his elbow, and was looking wounded.

She smiled softly.

He wasn't convinced.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No."

He swallowed a nervous mouthful, sat up a little more, legs propped up, the sheet pooling around his waist. He kept his stump behind the tent of his knees, his normal arm rested on top of them.

"I'm coming back." she promised him quietly.

"Where are you going?"

"I just need a drink. Do you want anything?"

He shook his head, brow lowering. He was sure he'd hurt her. There was a shutter drawn over her face, he had no idea what she was feeling or what she was thinking, and that was annoying.

She widened her space-filling smile, shrugged one shoulder, let her hair slide out from behind her ear, and slipped out of the room without another word.

* * *

He woke again to kisses on his mouth. Small, wet, trembling kisses. He returned them, hand coming up to catch her cheek.

_Tears. Not a good thing. _

He moved up, tasting whiskey on her mouth, the burn fresh and cold. She had one hand on the back of his neck, one on his shoulder. His arm moved around her lower back, pulling her barely stable body down onto the bed, collapsing on him.

"Belle." he murmured. "Belle, love."

"Shh." she pressed numb, desperate fingers to his lips. "Don't say... anything. I don't... Want to hear..."

"Slow down, darling." he eased her up, studying her glazed stare. "Come, now, isn't it a bit early to be drinking?" The sun hadn't even broken the horizon, yet, and they'd been sailing toward it.

"I'm not drinking... any more." she shook her head. "I don't understand... why is still hurts?"

He sighed.

"C'mere, princess."

"I, am not, and have never been a-" she burped, blushed, laughed behind her hand.

"That's better. Smile." he rolled out of the bed, still stark naked - and lowered her onto it. He moved to her legs, pulling the boots and the stockings from her little feet, tugging the sheet down to cover her with it. He noticed she was already breathing slower, eyelids smoothing out in her race to sleep.

"Belle, sweetheart." he sat by her side.

She smacked his rear on his decent, giggling, tears still flooding her lashes.

"Come, love, open your eyes for me." he waited until they focused on him, traveling around the room before they settled on his bicep. She dragged her gaze from there to his wrist, his thigh. Her hand moved lazily to draw her nails over his hip, to his stomach, the scars on his ribcage, up to his chest. She settled for holding onto his shoulder while her eyes finally honed in on his.

"You got drunk on purpose." he accused carefully.

"I expected it to hurt." she swallowed, her bottom lip wobbled. "I _wanted _you to hurt me... And you didn't. Why didn't it hurt?"

"Because I don't want to hurt you." he replied, brushing her hair away from her face, the strands that stuck to her tears. "Because you trusted me enough to relax and let me in without a fight, and that keeps it from hurting. Team effort. Well done to us."

She smiled, but it wobbled.

"Wish you'd stop crying, darling." he smoothed his hand over her tears, kissed the hand on his shoulder.

"I _wanted_ you to _hurt _me."

"Well, I'm not going to hurt you." he shrugged.

"I wanted you to give me a reason to hate you. But I don't." she tacked on, clarifying. "I don't hate you, though. I wanted... I thought that, if you just, hurt me, a little bit more, I could. But I don't. Why don't I hate you?"

"Because you're made of nicer things than hate?" he guessed. "I'm not going to hurt you again. Deal with it."

She sniffed, leaned into his hand, still wiping tears from her face.

"Killian?"

"Hm?"

"Again."

His eyebrows raised.

"Excuse me?"

"Again. I want to do it again." she sat up, pulled him closer by the back of the neck. "Look, you're already naked, we're halfway there."

He blinked.

"You're drunk."

"Uh huh." she wiped her tears on her sleeve, then went about trying to struggle out of the shirt, ending up on her side, giggling. "Killian, I want to do it again. I liked it. Get me undressed."

He lay down next to her, very amused at this behaviour, where her hands were traveling. He sucked in a hiss when those wicked hands went south of the proverbial belt, and stayed there, exploring.

"I won't make it hurt." he told her roughly.

"I don't care. Can we do it again, please?" she lifted doe eyes to him, but he could see the mischievous current pulsing beneath them. Had she ever been innocent? Oh, wait, she had.

Then he'd corrupted her.

Whoops.

"And you're sure you want this, again?"

"Uh huh." a certain tug confirmed her words. "Kind of hard when I'm in clothes, though."

"Right." he looked at the trousers, the shirt, and reached for the lacings. "Better get them out of my way then, hm?"

* * *

"Good morning, darling."

"Ughhh..."

"Sleep well?"

She made a noise like a dying whale.

"_I'm never drinking again_."

"That, I've heard before. Take this, go back to bed." he handed her a cup full of some horrid concoction she nearly spat out again. She struggled to hold it down, put her arm over her eyes and wiggled back into the bed, sighing heavily.

She cracked open one eye, seeing he was very amused, swinging whatever was left in the cup around. He leaned over and pressed a scratchy kiss on her brow.

"Are you better now?"

She closed her eyes, hid them behind her arm.

"I can still see you, darling." his hook was cold and it pinched her shoulder as he lifted the blanket and peered down at her naked body. "Yes, I see you. All of you. And all the marks on you. This one's my favourite." and shuffled down to nip at her hip bone, where he'd left a purple thumbprint.

She mumbled something, shoving his head only half heartedly.

"Come now, darling. Tell me. Do you feel any better?"

She rolled over, yanking the covers up to her chin.

"I'll bite you." his teeth found her shoulder blade, lips soothed straight after. She sighed, tossed a wildly aimed punch over her head, which he caught. He bit her wrist, up her arm, pulling her over onto her back.

"Tell me, woman. I can do this all day." he attacked under her jaw, which made her stretch out her neck. Her smile was tired, but in good humour.

"I'd feel better if you stopped biting me."

"Apologies." he soothed the beard burn on her chest with tiny kisses, pressing his mouth over it slowly, each part accordingly apologised for. "Only the best for the ship's lady. Forgive me. I implore you."

"Hmph. You're in a good mood."

"I have a particularly beautiful woman in my bed." he looked up, chin on her sternum, grinning cheekily. "And she's _naked_."

She hid her eyes again, her spare hand going to his hair. She dragged her nails over his skull, rubbing the nape of his neck, while he was perfectly content to kiss her belly and nibble at her ribs as he pleased.

"You didn't answer me, though, love." he had ended up at her navel, his breath hot against her stomach. "Are you better, now?"

"Hm." she peered at him from under her arm. His genuine concern, bruised mouth. She lifted her hand from his head and poked his lip - he caught the end of her finger and sucked on it. "I think I am. I don't... have so many angry feelings, towards you, any more."

"Well, I suppose that's always a good thing." he dipped his tongue into her belly button. "If we're going to be sleeping together."

"You just want your bed back."

"_Yes. _I want clean air, far away from Windy Joe. I want my bed. I want my pillows. But what's in the bed can stay too." he nuzzled her thigh, causing her to tense, pressing her knees together. She wanted to drag the sheet up between them, but it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before, and he only pressed his kisses there, the other leg, before moving back up to her face.

"The men know." he told her. "Nothing I could do about that. You blurted it in your drunkeness. Dunce is very excited."

She sighed, hid her face again, but he bit at her arm until she moved it.

"Stop biting me!"

"I'll do what I want." he caught her mouth in kisses that mimicked things they'd done the night prior. "So I'm moving back in tonight. Don't protest. I'll distract you."

"I wouldn't say no." she shrugged. "But know I'm keeping the key, and if you vex me, you're back in your hammock."

"Of course, love." he kissed her mouth again. "You get some sleep, though, you look like death left out in the sun too long."

"You're already back in the hammock." she rolled over and huffed, pulling a pillow to her ear. He just laughed, and closed the door behind him.


	28. Chapter 28

Several months later.

It was the second time they'd sailed to Agraba, on their way back to celebrate Aladin and his grand wedding to the princess, Jasmine. His tale was one of loss, then luck, then love; the three great elements that make up the usual suspects in romances.

Because he had her money purse - distinctly feminine and expensive looking, as it was - he was accused of stealing it. They took everything he had down to his shirt - he'd starved for weeks, Abu had nearly died, before he'd found a genie in a lamp and had turned his situation around.

He'd woo'd the princess, the sultan and the tiger - beaten a vicious magician who was related to Tom, with his hideous manicured facial hair and thin build. The sultan had granted him his daughter's hand, and he'd invited the whole crew to attend the festivities to annoy the guards who'd hated him the entire time he'd been there.

Belle was cornered and regaled by the princess by how thoughtful and down-to-earth the street rat was; how he'd adored her and wowed her. She had wondered aloud how Belle had never seen that in him, barely catching herself by the end of it.

"I was in love with another man." she said easily.

"Killian?"

"No."

"Oh. I've struck a nerve. I'm sorry."

"No. No, it's okay." she surveyed the dancing men, the pauper who was now a prince, the same but for a clean face and fancy clothes.

"He died?" she guessed, putting a kind arm on her shoulder.

"He left me." the words were equal parts depressed and sad.

"Luckily," Killian drawled, sliding a hooked arm around her shoulders. "I didn't make such a stupid mistake."

"Although I remember you threatening to leave me, here, actually."

"But I didn't." he kissed her temple. "I, at the very least, would've come back, love. As it was, you came back to me."

"I should've kept here, I would've had my adventure after all."

He just rolled his eyes, planted a kiss on her earlobe.

"You would've missed me."

"Hardly." she snorted, and proceeded to outrightly pretend he didn't exist. He didn't mind - he took up conversation with a man with his hook still around her, shooting the occasional glare at guards who were checking out his woman.

"I've always been interested in tattoos." Belle confessed to the princess, who had shown her the henna design on her hands. "Fascinated, if I'm to be completely honest. I don't know why they impress me the way they do."

"These are only temporary." she mused, then brightened. "Shall we do you?"

Belle just about passed out from excitement. Killian let her out from under the hook and followed shortly after, to see the floral designs on her hands, and her joy at seeing the markings on her skin.

He kissed the top of her head, making the women decorating her coo at his show of kindness, then disappeared for a few hours. Belle was hardly aware - she didn't care, tattoos! - Dunce got his own, even if these were restricted to women, and Peg-Leg nearly throttled him for his name done in a heart on his bicep.

* * *

"C'mere, love. I've something to ask of you."

She rose a brow at him in the mirror, busy twisting her hair into a plait, admiring her pretty, inked hands.

"Well ask it, then."

"Come here, woman." he lifted his eyes and turned his head over his shoulder, grinning. "I've got something to show you."

"I thought you had to ask?" she retorted, finishing her plait, and circled the bed to see the tools for tattooing set out on the bedside table. "...What is this?"

"I want you to ink me." he said rather cheekily.

"What the bloody hell for?" her voice pitched. "Killian - I can't draw."

"Then don't. And stay away from my face." And he casually pulled his shirt off over his head.

"Why do you want me to-...Ink, you?"

"Because you're my woman." He motioned to the heart with Milah's name over it. "Don't mark over Milah, though."

"I wouldn't." she murmured, and inspected him with a furrowed brow. "But... I don't know what to do."

"Just do it." he said, and shook his shoulders. "Come on. Pick a place, will you?"

She had to pick a place...? She tipped her head this way and that, eyes travelling over his body, and between the hair and the scars, she had little place to chose from. She reached out, smoothed a hand over his shoulder, down his chest, over the scars he'd gained in their first days.

"I don't know the theory of tattooing..."

"All you have to do," he said, picking up the cotton tipped instrument, twirling it between his fingers. "Is dip the needle in the ink," he demonstrated, showed her that the cotton had soaked through.

"Then into me." he stabbed three small dots onto his left forearm. He put the tool down, wiped the ink away, revealing the triad of small dots now permanently imbedded in his skin. She gasped at the blood, but he just grinned. "That's all."

"No." she took two steps back, but stopped herself, looking at the reddening skin of his forearm, back to the various other tattoos on his person. The little gull on his left shoulder, the snake and sword on his right bicep. Milah, of course, on his veins in a heart. In his heart. "What if you regret me, Killian? No, this, this is a bad, bad idea..."

"In what world am I going to regret you?" he snorted. "As if you don't like the idea of being on me forever."

"I don't want to make you bleed."

"Liar." he said, amused. "Just do this now, and when you hate me in the future, you can come back to this and hopefully stop swinging at me." he offered her the cloth used to wipe the blood and excess ink away.

She took the cloth, rolling it around in her fingers, studying his body. He, of course, tensed in all the attractive ways he could, wiggling his eyebrows. She traced the gull on his shoulder, deciding where she liked, before pushing his collarbone slightly, coaxing him to lay down on the bed.

"This is how I like you best." she teased. "On your back, and quiet."

"Oh, it's up there. Can't say it's the best." she climbed up after him, sat on his stomach heavily, making a rush of air come out of his mouth. "Don't be mean. I let you have your fun."

"If I fight for it." she reminded him.

"You like fighting to top me." his hand found her upper thigh, worked up to squeeze her hip. "And I like you fighting."

She inspected the tip of the needle, carefully leaned down and pressed kisses to the space she planned to mark him. He lifted his hand to her hair, smoothed it over her forehead, thumbed her lip.

"Are you sure, you want this?" she kissed his fingertip. "What if you regret me, Killian?"

"Even if I did, darling," he cooed. "You're still one something I want to keep with me, on my body, for you to see every time we... Touch."

She smacked his chest lightly.

"I've never seen you without these." she lifted and ran gentle nails over his self inflicted scars, the ones she'd tended for those three days, so long ago. "These, I think, should be enough to remember me."

"If you're squeamish-"

"I'm not squeamish. I just think you're going to regret this."

"Do I regret anything I do?" he cocked both brows. "Have you ever known me to mention how I regret something I've done?"

"No. But that doesn't mean you don't, or you won't."

He was amused, taking slow and easy breaths, causing her to rise and fall. She bit her lip, lowered the ink tipped needle to his left pectoral, pressing it down into his skin sharply. There was a moment when she pulled back and wiped it away to see the beading blood and the mark that was now his, forever, and tipped her head to the side. Her hair fell over her shoulder in it's neat plait - he caught the end and twisted it between his fingers.

"Killian, are you _sure_?" she looked from underneath her lashes.

"No, I've changed my mind, get off." he rolled his eyes. "Stop fretting. Just do it. I want you on me, Belle."

"I'm _sitting_ on you."

"As much as I like that, darling, I don't know how I can maintain it in a regular way." he squeezed her hip. "How would I 'steer the boat', for example?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something. You're a clever pirate." she bent and kissed his chest again. He grinned, knowing a victory when he heard one. "Just tell me if I hurt you, alright?"

"Yes, love, whatever you say, love."

* * *

"Cap'in, we're ready to- Oh, gods, 'pologies, Belle!"

"Come in, Mr Smee." she said patiently.

"Why is she the only one who gets an apology?"

"Because he's walked in on you before." Belle mused, nose inches above his chest. She sat and turned, smiling on the red beanied man, who had averted his eyes to the ceiling. "We're not doing what you think we're doing."

"No, the woman is just trying to tattoo an entire novel upon me." Killian grumped. "Here I thought it'd be a pretty star. But no. A novel."

"I can't draw." she reiterated. "And you know how I am with words. It's hardly a novel. What's the matter, Mr. Smee?"

"We, we were just saying that uh, we were ready to set off." he cleared his throat. "We were waiting on the Captain's word."

"I thought we'd be done by now." he lifted his head. "But alas. A damn novel."

"It's not a novel. Stop complaining."

"I preferred you fussing over my pain thresholds, you know."

"Uh huh. Whatever you say, darling." she just bent over him again, pushing the ink into his skin methodically. "I _am_ going to enjoy this memory, when you do something to vex me. Could you get Laurence for me, Mr. Smee?"

"Course, lady." he nodded, backed out again.

"And Chase!" Killian hollered.

The two men - vastly different in size, colour, and nature as two men ever were - came into the cabin. Laurence saw the needle and went straight to her side to confirm that she was doing everything possible, that the pirate had actually bought the lotions and potions necessary for a healthy recovery.

"That's a very pretty tattoo, Captain." he said with a baritone chuckle at the swirls and pretty lines that made up his ink. "Very well done to you, Belle."

"Do you like it?" she asked him happily.

"What does it say?" Killian, of course, couldn't read it, upside down, cursive as it was.

_"Forever there, forever changing, be it throwing a tantrum or easy sailing."_

"That way if I ever leave, you can tell your next woman it's about the sea." she seemed proud about that fact. "And you can keep it a secret if you want. No messy explaining necessary, for that one noble woman you used to keep company."

"Woman, I wanted you on me so people would know, not so I could keep you a secret." he groaned, flopped his head back down. "Why do you have it in your head I'm going to regret you?"

"Just based on past experiences with men," Chase said, matter-of-factly. "She hasn't had a good enough track record to truly believe you're any different. What did you call me in here for?"

Belle blushed, ducked back to stabbing him with the needle, while Laurence kept a comforting watch. Killian glared at the red head, who had no idea of what he'd done, just waited for his commands with hands tucked at the small of his back.

"Look, we're finishing up, here," he drawled. "You push off and set the sails. You know how it's done. I'll be up shortly."

"You want me to push off from the dock?" the man repeated, eyebrows hiking on his head.

"I believe that's what I said."

"Me?" his eyebrows came down, low over his eyes. "Why?"

"Because some one needs to do it. And gods know you'll do it right." he fixed a blue eyed stare on him. "We'll be having a chat, you and I."

"Oh, right. I'm in trouble." the man visibly relaxed. "Why didn't you just say so?"

"Clearly, I speak in naught but riddles and lies." he waved his hand. "Get on it, then, man."

The red head bowed slightly at the waist, mocking the noble more than impressing the Captain, and went to the door with a self important bop in his step. Laurence stayed and kept Belle's company while she and Killian argued the finer points of having a tattoo - he checked it over, applied the cream and wrapped it, telling Belle the times she had to re-apply and to call for him if the Captain was refusing help.

* * *

"You can't talk to her like that, Chase."

"I avoid talking to her at all. I usually say the wrong things."

"You were talking _at _her." Killian stepped in front of the wheel, blocking the view of the ocean. "And you know perfectly well when you're being rude. Whatever vendetta you have against her, you should re-evaluate your notions on it."

The red head paused a moment, studied his face.

"She didn't tell you."

The Captain, who'd began to peel back from the wheel, stopped in his tracks.

"Didn't tell me what?"

Chase's hands flexed on the wheel. He'd thought it would be the first thing she had done, was tell her dear Captain of his trying to have her killed. Why hadn't she told him? He'd thought Killian knew.

"Jones, were you supposed to know, she would've told you." the man retorted frankly. "I'm not so stupid as to go against that grain."

"Tell me what?" he repeated. He watched the other man squirm uncomfortably, like he did when something didn't add up the way he wanted it to, when something logical was challenged with something like pesky emotions or chance. "Homer Chase, what've you done?"

"Ask your woman." he said, and let go of the wheel. "Actually, never you mind. I'll ask her."

The man strode for the hull, where Belle was helping Smith tie off a sail. She stood, wiping sweat off her brow, and saw him charging, almost flinching away from the mere look on his face.

"Chase?"

"You-" he jabbed a finger at her, then grabbed her arm. "-Why didn't you tell him?"

"Oi." Smith said sharply, and smacked his hand away. "Watch your damn tone."

"Stay out of it, Simon." he snapped back. "And you keep your beggar hands away from me."

Killian finally got someone to man the wheel, and trotted to meet them, just as Chase put his hand back on Belle's arm. It appeared she didn't need his help. His wrist was taken, yanked forward, then jarred back - she spun once, twice, and was suddenly behind him with his wrist pushed up between his shoulders. She kicked in the backs of his knees and made him fall, then pulled him back by a handful of hair to face the, rather, stunned, Smith.

"Your apology, Mr. Chase." she said with the world's sweetest smile.

He spat out a word of apology, until she twisted his arm and he yelped a more sincere one.

"Better." she nodded once, simply, and let him go. "Now. What was this of you wanting a private word with me?"

"Private my boot." Killian scoffed. "You're not going out of my sight."

"Private, not out of sight." she nodded, and casually sashayed to the opposite end of the ship. She waited for the usually distinguished man to pick himself up, fixing his coat, and marched over to her.

"Without putting hands on me..." she sent a wink to Killian, who was amused and proud, under the concern. "What do you want?"

"You didn't tell him I tried to have you drowned." he accused lowly.

"No, I didn't." she turned her gaze onto him. "Was I supposed to?"

"Yes." he rubbed his shoulder. "You're a woman. You were supposed to tattle and he was supposed to know from your mouth, so you could calm him down enough about it so he didn't make me walk the plank."

"I see." she said, and nodded. "Well, no, I didn't tell him, and I have no intentions of ever doing so."

"You can't keep secrets from him." he seethed. "Your his woman."

"I'm my own bloody woman." she shot back, voice elevated enough to cut through the mumbled silence of the ship around them. She'd thought mermaids were bad for gossip, pirates were worse. "You told me what you told me to get the secret off your own back. What I chose to do with it is no longer your concern."

"I told you what I told you for you to tell him." he jabbed a finger in Killian's direction. "I have never kept a secret from him my whole life."

"Well you'd better learn." she said, and stared him right in the eye. "You told me you were protecting him from a messy ending, Chase."

"Aye. And I still am. Don't think this'll last forever, all this sweetness." he made a motion at his chest. "He likes you well enough to have your mark made on him for all the world to see, sure, but don't think that means you'll be together forever. Marks fade. People die."

"And if you try and have me killed again, Homer Chase," she chastised him like a schoolboy, and he flushed as one under his full name. "I _will_ tell him. And there won't be enough grog in all the high seas to calm him down, because I won't do it."

"I was talking about Milah." he shifted uncomfortably. "This life, we never know what's going to happen in it. People get sick, get stupid, drink too much..." he glanced at the Captain, who was flanked by Smith and Kong, both imposing enough to look at, but more so when one knew their skill set. Which he did.

"I'm protecting him too." she said softly, causing him to stare. "What, you think if I told him you'd had a gang try and kill me, he'd keep you on board?"

"He wouldn't make me walk." he said flatly. "He wouldn't."

"No, he'd see to it you were alive, unharmed. But does it make any sense to keep the man admitted to having a devious assassination scheme on the same ship as your..." she swallowed, searched for words. "Woman?"

It didn't, actually, now that he thought about it.

"You just keep your tongue in your mouth, Chase, and it'll be fine. It'll be his wrath to both of us if word gets out." she fixed her hair, wiped sweaty palms on her pants. "Now. I've got to go properly distract him from this whole mess. If there's anything else you feel you have to manhandle me for, I'd suggest you mention it now."

He took a breath, counted to ten, so she was already half way across the ship when he said:

"I'm sorry, lady Belle."

She continued to walk, but turned and smiled over her shoulder.

"Of course, Mr. Chase, your apology is accepted."

* * *

Killian now knew there was something going on, something he hadn't been told. There was a viciousness in Belle's take down of his first mate that he hadn't seen in her before. She didn't like inflicting pain - but the look on her face when she did it to Chase, that made him think it was a long time coming.

"Have you slept with him?" was the first thing he thought to say. Probably not the best of times, still breathless and in post coital bliss, as they were. He felt her body jolt, and turned his head to see her expression was hurt. "Belle, if you have, I need to know."

"Slept with whom?" she said primly, and sat up, taking the sheet with her.

"Chase."

She just about smacked him in the mouth. As it was, her arms were sore, and she was exhausted. So with indifference, she replied.

"No, Killian, I have not slept with Chase."

She pulled the blanket with her to the side of the bed, then yanked it off of him and wrapped it low around her mid-back. She skipped to the dresser, pulled out the first dress that came into her hands - she didn't have many, so she couldn't be fussy when the dress she chose was too-tight about the waist, itchy, ugly mottled green, with straps that fell off her shoulders.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving."

"Why?" he sat up, going for his pants, knowing she was about three seconds from walking out on him. He couldn't find his pants. Where the hell had they ended up? "Woman - No, we're talking. We need to talk-"

"Now who's the woman in this relationship?" she scowled over her shoulder, shimmying into some pants, under her dress, knowing that there wasn't ever a good time to wear a skirt on the open sea. She went to the door and had only put her hand on the handle when he shut it over her head.

Wrapped in nothing but bandages over his chest and a sheet around his waist, he stopped her, trapping the sheets with his lame arm and putting his hand on the frame.

"Belle. Just tell me. Something happened."

"Move."

"If you've kissed him or, or- if he's kissed you..." something clicked behind his eyes. "Has he tried something with you?"

"No. To all of the above." she caught his face, watched his rage simmer down from it's intense boiling point. Her thumbs smoothed over his face, and she felt her mouth twitch, which had meant to be a reassuring smile.

"Then what?" he frowned. "If you- you've found you like him, if you want to be rid of me-"

"I don't know why you're being so insecure," she said, dead pan. "But it's misplaced. I barely like Chase, let alone would willingly touch him."

His mouth spasmed, he couldn't hide his relief.

"Then where are you going?"

"You just asked me if I'd been sleeping with one of your best friends," she said slowly, as if explaining something to Dunce. "While we were still in bed together. Then only way I can try to equate that feeling is asking you whether you ever think of Milah, _while you're still inside of me."_

"I never think of Milah when I'm in bed with you." he said instantly, minimally offended she'd even asked. It made sense to him, then, how that could hurt. "Oh, come on, Belle. Don't leave."

She knocked his hand away, strode out the door. He tried to make after her but she just yanked the sheet away from him and skipped out of his reach, while the men whooped and hollered with all the usual things men say and do when they catch a glimpse more than they bargain for.

He swore, sent them all a cheeky smile, then pulled the sheet up to his armpits. He went back into the cabin, donned pants, and returned - but she was gone, and the men weren't saying where.

He knew the ship like the back of his...Hand... But he spent all night trying to find her, and he couldn't. Finally, cursing, frustrated, feeling cheated by the men and by her running off, he sent a whistle up to Willhelm, who hung bleakly over the side of his crow's nest, rubbing his one eye with a sleep-drunk hand.

"Have you seen Belle?"

The grin was brighter than the still rising sun.

"Have I ever. We wondered how long it'd take you."

Another head popped over the side.

He scowled.

"What are you doing up there?" he grouched.

"I was sleeping." she yawned behind her hand. "How was your night?"

_Spent chasing after you, thanks._

He just waved his hand at her, went back to his cabin, and slammed the door. She high fived her sight-impaired friend, threw her leg over the bowl of the nest, and climbed back down again, knowing he'd more likely than not completely forgotten about the Chase incident.

* * *

It took him a few weeks, but he tried to sneak it into casual conversation so she'd tell him. He'd done it when she was two and a half glasses of wine into the night, sitting on his knee, giggling about the time she'd broken them out of jail to a few of the new lads, who had naturally been curious as to her presence.

"What did Chase not want you to tell me?" he mused into her ear.

She was still giggling, cheeks flushed and merry. She wound her arm tighter around his shoulders and kissed his temple, breaking up her bouts of giggles.

Chase, from across the room, had gone a near shade of white. He was holding onto the table in front of him with tight hands, his grey eyes trained on her face. She didn't pay him any mind, even if she knew he was there, and staring.

"Come with me, Captain Jones." she said into the shell of his ear, getting to wobbly feet. "I've... something to say, in private."

"Course you do." Peggy scoffed. "Public displays of affection. I'll never understand."

"Cuz you're old." Dunce offered, and was promptly cuffed over the back of the head.

Belle lead the Captain to their cabin, locked the door behind them both, and jumped into his waiting arms. She proceeded to kiss him until she had to pull back for breath, legs wound tight around his waist, hands scrunching his shirt into creases.

"I'm not distracted enough." he said against her throat, though he still kissed her. "I want to know."

"I know." she sighed. "I-...I know, you know, that I know, that you know..."

"You're drunk."

"I'm not!" she laughed. "I'm _giddy_. You're drunk!" and she caught his mouth in another, rather stirring kiss.

"It takes a far sight more than a glass of whiskey to get me giddy, darling." he mused, and sat on the bed, keeping her locked against him with his left arm over her lower back and right hand keeping her hip. "Or to forget that you and my first mate have some secret kept from anyone but yourselves. I would know. I've asked everyone."

He lifted his hand to her face, ran his knuckles over her cheekbone. He softened his features, kissed her sternum.

"Tell me."

"I've something to tell you." she agreed, and pressed small, gentle kisses around his face. He was grinning widely at the attention, allowing himself to revel in the kisses and the kindness with closed eyes. "Wait a moment. I'll be right back." she kissed his mouth, and climbed off his legs again.

"If you're keen on distracting me again," he said, watching her hips sway. "You're not winning this time. I won't have it."

"I'm just telling you something, Killian, why do you have to be so stubborn?" what she'd said didn't make sense, but it didn't have to, she was drunk. She fumbled in the draw for a minute, then came back, unloading her burden onto their bedside table. It was bundled in a thick draw-string bag, so he couldn't see what was in it.

"If that's a bag of body parts..." he started, but she just giggled some more, and stood in front of him, her hands on the ties of her shirt. "What're you doing, love?"

"I want you to ink me, too." she murmured, shyly hiding her eyes. "But you don't get to chose where. I'll show you."

And she pulled the strings loose, letting the shirt fall open enough to slide down her arms and catch on her hips. His eyes went south of her face, tracing the line of his favourite places. She still felt apprehensive of being even slightly naked in front of him, but stilled her arms from hiding, and lifted both hands to create a diamond shape just under her breasts.

"Here." she said with a smile, and fluttered lashes at him. "Will you?"

"A tattoo?" he tugged the bag open, where there were pots of colours, more inking tools. "Belle, sweetheart, I would give you anything you wanted but, a tattoo?"

"I want you to ink me, Killian." she said again, more insistent. "I want your mark. I want you on me forever. You're one of the best things that have ever happened to me, and I want proof that you were."

"I don't want to hurt you, love." he said gently, and moved to kiss the centre of that diamond. He may have gotten slightly side tracked, getting on his knees in front of her, kissing where ever his mouth sought fit.

"I'm drunk, I can't be hurt." she insisted, running her nails over his head.

"The drink doesn't make you invincible, princess."

"How many times, pirate, must I tell you I'm not a- Oh!" he'd only nibbled her hipbone, but the way she was swaying, he doubted it'd take much to throw her concentration. "Please." she said, and fixed her sad, puppy dog eyes down on him.

"Please, ink me?"

"These hurt, you know." he informed her.

"I don't care. I want you to be a part of me like this. I want proof."

"You keep saying 'proof', darling, but proof of what?"

"I want proof that at maybe one point in your life," she swallowed, went terrifyingly sober for a second. "I meant something... powerful, to you."

And it was there with him kneeling at her feet, he kissed her belly and said: "I love you, Belle."

He didn't expect the reaction he got, which was for her to get on her knees too, and reply: "I didn't think you did."

"Well, I do." he kissed her trembling lip, the small white scar he always tasted with his tongue, the scar that she'd earned being punched in the face while under his protection. He hated that scar, but loved the way she wore it.

"I love you too, you know." she whispered. "I do, I love you, but I'm scared because I don't think you could love anyone like you loved Milah."

He thought about that.

"No. No one will ever be like Milah. But no one will ever be like you." he thumbed the tear tracking on her cheek. "I thought you were still madly in love with...Him?" and he winced at the too-normal name.

"First cut is the deepest..." she told him wisely, and took his hand, pressing it to the diamond under her sternum. "He's my Milah. I'll always love him. But I want you here. I want proof. If you love me, you'll do it."

"Already with the bribery." he rolled his eyes, cocked a smooth brow. "Alright. I'll do it. Bad luck to you if it hurts."

"It won't hurt me." she let out a breathless laugh. "Not now I know you love me. Nothing will ever hurt me again."


	29. Chapter 29

It had been a completely average day of sailing. They were in the middle of the ocean, not a speck of land to be found anywhere but far under the water. The sky was fair, the wind was moderate, and the sun played peek-a-boo behind the clouds.

So it was a shock when there was a massive thunderclap, a frigid wind, and black ship pulling up beside them, out of absolutely no where. Will barely got a chance to holler before Killian noticed the large war vessel. He called to weigh the anchor - he found Belle and without explaining anything, shoved her in their cabin, praying to every sea god he knew that she'd stay quiet, and he hadn't already seen her.

He, being Blackbeard.

"'Lo, Jonesey." the man was thick all over, his stomach bloated with muscle. He wasn't very tall, but he was very strong, with a neatly trimmed beard, threaded through with diamonds, coins, and the mermaidian pearl Hook had given him as a child.

He'd be a good looking man, if he weren't so apparently bad. Lightning ripped in the air, reflected in the man's eyes, lighting them up in the sockets. Dunce cringed. Will stayed put in his nest.

"It's been a while." he said, cocking a brow at the men flooding over onto his ship. He made a motion for his men to stand down - Blackbeard's crew had never fought fair, using magic and bad form to win their battles. His men would never survive so much as a scuffle. "What brings you to the Jolly Roger?"

"Heard you had more pearls." his voice was a low, monotone growl.

"Aye, I do."

"How'd you get 'em?"

"You know I'm irresistible to women." was his casual reply.

Blackbeard's hum of affirmation was drawn out. His grey eyes - so much like the churning sky above them - flicked over his shoulder, toward his cabin. The ship lurched, but it was like he was weighted in the wood, because he didn't stumble, like anyone else did.

"Queen Anne keeps gettin' tipped, see." he continued in his even growl, strolling along to the cabin door. He raised a hand, seemed to feel the wood, before turning back to Killian. "By mermaids. Reckon if I have enough o' their gifts, they'll recognize me as a friend, not a foe. I'd like your collection of pearls, Jones."

He shrugged.

"I don't sail mermaidian waters frequently." he gestured with his hook. "I'd be inclined to ask what I'm receiving in return."

"Safe passage for your woman." was the far too calm reply. "I know she's in there. I know she's listenin'. She should stop bein' so rude and come out to say hello to her guests."

Killian swallowed. He didn't want Blackbeard to know her face. There was a lot his magic could do, if he saw her face. He couldn't make the decision - to lie, not to lie, protect her but for how long thereafter? - he didn't have to.

"I do apologize." the woman said lightly, curtseying, on the balcony above their heads. She lifted a bag filled with the pearls, and used a rope to guide her way down. She stuck out her right hand, smiling politely.

The pirate took it in his much more rough one, lifting it to his mouth to press a gentle kiss to each knuckle. He maintained his hold on her hand as he straightened - Killian's blood boiled at the contact, but he said nothing, kept his face clear.

"The pearls, dear lady." his other hand uncurled to receive them.

"Just one question, first." she said evenly, putting the bag in his palm but not releasing it. "How did you find out about these pearls?"

He surveyed her for the longest minute of Killian's life. He was sure she was just going to fall to the floor, dead. He'd never recover, if he lost his heart again.

"You tossed four men." he told her roughly, glanced over his shoulder. His eyes saw straight through Killian's façade - he sent him a small, impressed grin. "The lady was approached by a big one with a scar mouth and a griffon on a ring. He got handy with her, so she tossed him first. The second, tattooed, pretty boy, tried to have his way with her-"

His eyes flicked to Smith, who gulped.

"-He tackled him straight off the ship. The third came to blows with him-" he looked at Peg-Leg, who was hiding Dunce. "-while his lover, there, jumped over to collect your fallen. The third cut his neck just as he returned, and he was tossed as well."

"Ah." Killian said shortly. He went over the names, putting them to the faces. "What about the fourth?"

The big pirate chuckled, took the pearls from Belle, lifting her hand to his mouth again.

"He just walked." was the very amused reply. "This woman only looks like a lady. She fights like a man. Keep her hooked, won't you, Jonesey?" he clapped the man on his way past, commanding the skies to open and the vicious men to depart.

The Jolly Roger watched Queen Anne's Revenge sail straight into a thick fog - then become no more, disappearing into the atmosphere.

"Well." Belle said, blushing lightly. "He was... Nice."

"Why is it the only bad things you ever have to say are about me?" he went to her, gathered her up in a hug. "You tossed Adam overboard, love?"

"I didn't want to." she said into his shoulder, her voice squeaky. "He just-... He was going to hurt me. I thought-"

"You did the smart thing, Belle." he kissed her shoulder. "You kept yourself safe. Never regret keeping yourself safe, when I can't do it for you." he rounded on the men - most of which had never met the pirate legend and had little to no idea of how he did what he did, or why Killian had given in so easily.

"Right, you lot. Bring up the anchor, let's get moving!"

* * *

She decided to return to her father, to make her apologies and at least _see_ him. The men stayed on board, instructed to storm the castle if they didn't send a safeword by carrier pigeon by sunset. She went back to her ground home with a trio of red roses tattooed on her and a one handed pirate at her side, strutting. They were allowed into the castle, recognised instantly, escorted to the knight. He allowed them to make their greetings before he sniffed up his tears and told her he'd been so sure she was never coming back.

"If you allow my friends entrance to the castle, papa, I'll stay even longer."

"You're going again?" he nearly choked on the words.

"Yes." she said primly, smoothing hands over her leather pants. "And if you try and keep me again, I'll never return. I love the sea, father. And I make my own choices."

"Right." he nodded along dumbly, sunk in his throne. "Well. I guess you'll have to send word to your friends to come in, then. Do tell them not to take anything."

"I'll tell them." Killian said pleasantly. "But whether they listen or not is entirely on how you treat them. Show them common courtesy and they'll be less inclined to rob you blind. Gaston?" he shot at the knight, still unmarried but recently betrothed. The man jerked as if struck, raising his chin in challenge.

"Pirate?"

He grinned, put an arm around Belle's waist.

"A word of friendly advise." he cocked an eyebrow. "You keep your hands off my woman."

"Your woman?" the man repeated, inflating. "And what is it you think you'll do, should I not heed this, friendly advice?"

"Oh, I won't do a damn thing." he snickered. "I won't need to, with a crew of thirty strong at her back, all she needs to do is look uncomfortable and you'll hit the floor. As I said," he grinned, baring all his teeth in a wolfish manner.

"Friendly advice."

* * *

They'd only been there two hours when Belle nicked off to the library to start dragging her favorite tomes down onto his ship. He'd only rolled his eyes - she'd been bouncing around about that for months - and wished her happy gathering, reminding her that, while the Roger was a fine vessel and could handle much weight, there was a limit and if she could kindly not push it, he would be grateful.

She pressed a kiss onto his brow.

"Of course not, love." she said quite easily, which made both her father and the scowling ex-fiancée turn a concerning shade of red.

"Have fun, darling." he caught her chin with the returned kiss, and she patted his chest on the way past.

She'd been distant with her father outwardly, but Killian had heard enough of her nightmares to piece together that she was keen to bridge that gap, though she remained hurt by putting her in a tower and announcing she'd still marry Gaston.

"So," he said casually, as soon as the door closed behind her. "I'm going to marry your daughter. I just need to find the ring."

Maurice leveled him with a look, said nothing, got to his feet and walked away.

_Well, it could've been worse._

"You're what?"

"You're a pretty lad, to be sure, but, not the sharpest sword in the arsenal, are you?" he leaned his head on his fist, kicking one leg up to bounce on the other. "I said, I am going to marry Belle, and all I need to do is find the ring."

"She'll never have you." the man retorted instantly, a hot colour on his cheekbones. "Whatever this - phase is, she's never going to want you as her husband. She'll need more than you can give."

"Like what?" he drawled.

"Stability."

"I govern a ship. The only thing unstable about it is the water it rests on. Do your worst, knight, I've heard it all." he gestured with his hook, which made the knight shift for the sword on his hip. "Stability, curses, the hunger, the sicknesses and all. That's all well and good, but you can't say the same thing doesn't happen on land. More frequently, if we're going to be honest. She's happy."

"What about children?"

"What about them?"

"She wants them."

"Then I'll have them." he raised his brows. "That's the worst you can think of? Children? Children happen. I can't say I've ever been around babies before, but I'm sure I'll learn."

Maurice, returned from his short walk, came in to hear them talking of babies. He lost all color, fell into his seat.

"She's not- preg-nant?"

"Yet." he shrugged, then laughed out right at their collective expressions. The elderly knight shoo'd away the younger, who seemed caught between defending Belle's honour and just stabbing him because he could. He decided to walk away in a huff, earning a few amused snickers from the crew assembled around the table.

Killian watched the remaining knight struggle internally, finally putting a small box on the table and sliding it over to him.

"I have never seen a man so angry as when that monster came for her. I have never seen a man so scared for my little girl. You think you can maintain that, pirate?"

Killian cocked a brow at the box, looking skeptically at it. He flicked it open with his forefinger, then did a double take.

"Bloody perfect." It was delicate gold, curls and dainty diamonds marooned around a giant blood red ruby. The gem was cut sharp enough to draw blood, he was sure, just like his Belle.

"It was her mother's." The man said gravely, and snapped the box closed, though he left it on the table. "You promise me, pirate. I don't care if you take this ring and sell it. I don't care if you don't marry her, though that isn't permission." He grumped.

"I'd prefer my grand babies not to be bastards, as well as pirates. I'm assuming you have intentions of continuing your- lifestyle, whilst married to my girl?"

"Assuming." he drawled, and picked up the box. He clicked open the lid, eyeing the ruby, it's pretty diamonds, perfectly matching in size. "Probably. She's been bitten by a bug no cream can cure. She's got adventure in her blood, now."

"Gets that from me." the knight huffed, and rubbed his eyes. "But you promise me. You keep protecting her like that, and I'll be... Content."

"Just content, pops?" He grinned. "We can do it now, should you let me. I know the clergyman down the way."

When the man was shocked, he just shrugged.

"Just because we're men who steal, doesn't mean we're men without morals, Or men without gods to worship. I, myself, am not one of those men..." he studied the man's stunned face. "What?"

"You'd marry my girl now," he said slowly. "Why?"

"I love her." he said casually. "And gods know I'm in her good book if you're at the wedding."

"Uh, Cap?" Will nudged him, his eye trained on the door.

Belle was standing with her mouth open, a book in either hand.

"Did- Whose wedding?" she demanded. "Our wedding? Are we getting married?"

He grinned, got to his feet with the ring in his hand.

"Yes, well, I thought it was about bloody time everyone knew you were my woman." He flicked open the box, offered it to her. "And for you to make a half decent man out of me."

She strode forward, depositing the books on the table as she went. She picked up pace, ran at him, launched and hugged him around the neck, planting a kiss on his mouth, her legs wrapped around his waist. He returned it, hugging her tightly, peppering kisses on her collar bone before looking up to her eyes.

"No wedding of mine will be slapped up in an afternoon." she said fondly, kissing his cheek. "You're going to have to stay on land for a week, at least."

"I can do that." he promised, and kissed her again.

* * *

She was running short on female friends, so she commandeered Snow White and Jasmine to be the ones to help her plan the throw together wedding. Snow and Belle had spent summers together as children and had been in touch just before Belle had struck her deal with Rumplestiltskin, a pity, seeing as they got along quite well.

Jasmine's skin was brown and clear, her eyes lined like a tiger's, in the traditional wedding garb of her own people - a pretty gown, made especially to fit in for the forgein land, made from silk, not netting.

"Another pirate husband!" Snow kept saying. "I guess that's where all the men are! How exciting."

"There's less excitement than you'd think." Belle mused. "Aside from the jail breaks. Poker is always fun."

"I can't play poker to save myself." Jasmine said with a sad sigh. "I always lose, when Aladin and I play."

"You have to cheat." Belle admitted. "Or you'll never win. That's the only reason they play, to test each other's sleight of hand abilities, really."

They didn't have time to make her a dress, so they sent out her measurements to the seamstress' and waited until there was a flurry of garments sent back. Jasmine liked one that was tight from bust to knee then flared out in a wide circle, like a mermaid's tail - Snow was more partial to a soft chiffon gown, with delicately woven sleeves.

"You know love," Snow jolted, Jasmine was used to having a sneaky husband. "If I had've known you wanted the whole mess of a wedding, I would've proposed in such a manner." he lifted the skirt on one of the dresses, made a dissatisfied noise.

"One knee, candles, roses. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I just want you, Captain." she said over the screen, making him bend his knees in a mock swoon.

"You're not supposed to be in here!" Snow said, but smiled anyway. "You can't see a bride in her gown until the moment she comes down the aisle. It's bad luck."

"And the last thing we need is bad luck." Belle said, and stepped out in a cream colored shift, which had pale pink accents in the ribbons. "It's okay, this one isn't the dress. So tell me what you want and get out."

"You wound me." he even had the decency to pout. "I just wanted to see you. Was that wrong of me?"

"My left foot, you just wanted to see me." her eyes twinkled. "What're you up to, Captain Jones?"

His grin was raunchy.

"Just wanted to know if your lady friends here liked your tattoo." he said innocently, but looked anything but.

"Liar." she accused. "You're scheming. I know that look like the back of your hook."

"Oh haha, love, very clever."

"Yes, I know. What are you after?"

"I wanted to make sure your dress wasn't anything too complex." he said with a naughty wink. "I'm _hand_icapped, as you well know."

"You make perfectly good use of the hook and you know it. Don't mind him, Snow, he makes jokes about it all the time. It's getting out of_ hand_." she rose a smooth brow, wicked grin on her mouth. "Do I have to escort you out, Killian?"

"Not at all, love." he prowled over to her, lowered her and stole a kiss, before he set her upright again. "Mayhap I really did just want to see you?"

"Mm-hmm." she was swooning, slightly, and he knew it. "Have you gotten what you came for?"

"Yes." he pecked her nose, eyed a frilled skirt behind her head. "Gods' sake, love, don't wear that. You'll look like some kind of pastry."

"I'll do exactly as I please." but she had to agree with him, on the skirt in question. "You just-"

"Yes, yes, no seeing the bride in the dress, I got it the first time." he sighed, bowed to the ladies in the room, and stood, lifting the petticoat of another dress on his way past. "Not this one, either. Too many layers. I'm impatient."

She hefted a bonnet at his head, but it fell short, swinging sadly to the floor. He just rose his brow, smirking at the dismal effort. She put hands on her hips and matched the stare.

"Do show them my tattoo." he said, and turned on his heel. "Someone has to admire it." and he closed the door behind him.

"Do you really have a tattoo?" Snow asked curiously.

Belle shimmied the dress down her waist, showing the three roses, the intricate petals and curls of the vies connecting them. There were only a few thorns - he'd said she wasn't a prickly lass, so he wouldn't put many on her. Jasmine was impressed, Snow was wide eyed.

"Killian, drew that?"

"Yes, he did."

"How long did it take?"

"Hours. Lots, and lots of hours. Two different times, to color in the roses."

"Did it hurt?"

"Oh, yes." she nodded. "And I want another-..." she stopped abruptly, narrowed her eyes at the door her fiancée had just exited from. Her left hand curled, thumb rubbing over her ring finger.

"Belle, are you okay?"

"I knew he was up to something." she grumped, and sighed. "He took my ring."

* * *

Her dress was gold, off the shoulder, with red roses pinning up the skirt, a red rose in her hair, and a red cape on her shoulders. Snow and Jasmine were in red dresses with gold accents, their jet black hair swept up into equal curled up dos.

Killian was in his usual pirate garb but for the red knee length coat with gold buckles Belle had made him promise to wear. He hadn't seen her for nearly two days - he swallowed, his nerves catching up with his bravado. Chase, from beside him, patted his shoulder.

"If you run," Chase said. "I'll follow. But I'm never going to let you live this down."

"Thanks, Homer."

"Anytime, Shae."

"Piss off."

"Up yours."

"You always know just what to say."

The ceremony was short, mentioning a single passage on love before the cup was passed to the pirate Captain.

"I, Captain Killian Jones, do take you, my best friend and lady love, to be my lawfully wedded bride, to protect and to hold, in sea sickness or in health. I do so solemnly swear upon my honor as a gentleman and my word as a pirate, that I will protect you forever, 'till death does us part." he was proud of the things he'd said, preening like a bird under all the swooning women.

Snow was tearing up, beaming behind his woman. He winked at her, and she hid her face in her flowers.

"I, Belle, do take you, my dearest Captain and moderately talented lover-" her father hid his face, the men laughed, Killian smacked her rear. "-to have as I please in the only lawful way he's ever been. I promise to hold you when you're drunk, to allow you to listen to my heart when you ask politely, in sickness and in health, till I decide I'm sick of you, and cast you off."

"Charming, darling."

"Learned from the best."

He took her hand with his hook, keeping her balanced while Chase handed him the ring over his shoulder. He slid on the ruby onto her finger, lifted it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles twice. Snow handed her his ring - it had been made to match hers, with a thick golden band, the matching curly designs imprinted on the metal. A square ruby was set in the middle, with two tiny diamonds on either side.

She swallowed back tears, only just. Putting the ring on his finger, she noticed he was watching her face intently, his own emotions barely repressed.

"I love you." she whispered to him, and pressed her own kiss to his hand.

"I love you."

They shared the cup, a chaste kiss. A cheer went up.

"That was nice." he mused. "For a married man. I thought I'd feel different."

"Do you?" she reached up and dusted away petals from his brow.

"Not really." he knocked her flowers aside and swung her into a proper kiss, bending her over far enough she had to fling her arms around his shoulders to keep her balance. "That's _much better_."


	30. Chapter 30

**TRIGGER WARNING-**

Sensitive material pertaining to babies. If you want to skip it, look for the SAFEWORD.

* * *

Two Years Later.

* * *

_Bloody woman. _

She hadn't stopped squirming for the last half hour. Now she was moaning. He put his hand on her shoulder, called her name in a sleepy, rough voice. She didn't wake; her body contracted into a ball, away from him, and a low moan left her mouth.

He tucked into her backside, rubbing her arm, until he felt a certain wetness on his legs. The sun's light barely filtered in through the curtains, but he had enough to see (when he eventually cracked open one sleep blurry eye) that she really was a bloody woman.

He swore, loudly, and shook her, jumping up on his knees.

"Belle! Belle, wake up, love-"

"What?" her breathing was hard, hands pressed into her abdomen. "What is this...pain?"

"I'll get Laurence, sweetheart, stay awake, alright?" he when to touch her face for reassurance, but there was blood on his hand. Startled by it, she looked down, which was her first mistake. The second was lifting the blanket to see where all the blood was coming from.

He was grateful he'd pulled long johns on before bed the night before... because Belle had been complaining of sea sickness for, what, three or so days, now? She had hardly wanted to move out of bed the morning before, and had gone to sleep shortly after sun down.

He kicked open the door, took the stairs three at a time, waking most the men to grab swords and knives reflexively. He bounded over to Laurence, who was already rising, took his shirt and shook him.

"Belle-" he was frightened, they could all see it. "There's blood-"

Laurence didn't need any more than that, taking off in a thunderous gallop. He snatched a bag full of medical supplies from a hook on his way past, and beat Killian to the cabin by long seconds. Belle was sitting, nursing her stomach, knees up, face completely white. Laurence had stopped in the door way.

"Do something!" Killian barked at him, running over to the bed. He hopped up onto it, putting his arms around the woman, who leaned into him and whimpered. "Laurence-"

"There's nothing I can do." his voice was very, very quiet. He closed the door behind him to keep the eyes of the men away, and went to the bedside the same way Killian had observed men walking the plank. "I can help with the pain."

"Then help." he growled. "What's happening?"

The big man knelt at the bedside, lifting his hand to Belle's stomach. She shook her head, panting for breath.

"No," she said, and started crying. "No, no, Laurie please-!"

"I'm sorry," the big man offered. "For your loss."

"What?" He had thought, at first, he'd been talking about Belle. Then he put together the sicknesses, the uninterrupted months they'd shared, the swelling in her belly he'd teased her about... "Gods. No." he pressed his head against hers, held onto her tightly still.

Laurence provided them with something for the pain, though for Killian's pain he prescribed lots of rum and tender care. He was ushered out so he could deliver what had been his baby, then called back in, to find Belle in a ball on the only white part of the bed that was left.

She was sniffing, tears wouldn't stop falling, but she reached for him, and he fell for her.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I was going to tell you but- I just felt so ill and - I knew, I knew something was wrong-" she pulled his head to her chest, dug her fingers into him like she was anchoring herself in his skin. "- Killian, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-"

"Belle, sweetheart," he nuzzled her skin. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, but trembled, and looked utterly weak.

"It's alright, love." he closed his eyes, was shocked to find that tears dripped off his lashes. When did they get there? "If you're alright... I'm alright."

But they weren't. Not really.

* * *

The second time it happened, it hardly happened at all. One minute she was laughing with the lads, the next, a terrible pain in her stomach, enough to make her double over. Killian was at the wheel, and they under the hull, so he missed the way Chase took hold of the situation with both hands, commanding men to get the hell out of his way and for Dunce to pick up the struggling pirate lass.

He charged up the stairs hollering for _Killian_, not for _Jones_.

Laurence was called but by the time he'd gotten there Belle had retreated to their room, had locked herself in, and it was over and done. No one had known what had happened, no one had understood. Laurence hadn't been informed, so Killian did the math.

"Two months." he said slowly, and rubbed his eyes. "Another one. She was two months along."

"A baby?" Dunce repeated, his brow furrowed.

"No." Killian said, and shoved his hook in the lock to break it open. "No baby."

* * *

**SAFEWORD**

* * *

The third time she fell pregnant, and Killian picked up on the signs faster than Belle did. This time, he was ready, he was not going to lose another. He wouldn't.

So when he did even have the slightest inkling, he set instantly for Belle's home, her father's fort castle. He had been reading through some of her stupid romances - ones that Belle had blamed for her limited knowledge when it came to all things womanly. In her dead mother's stead she had turned to books for answers, and so had he. He'd read that a woman needed ground, that she needed home. And while it was all well and good for them both to claim the Roger as their home, his babies clearly had a problem with it.

"You... miss my father." she blinked at him. "That's it? That's the lie you're going to go with?"

"I'm hurt." he put his hook on his chest. "That you think I would lie to you in two and a half years of marriage."

"I read you, dear." she said matter of factly. "So it's wasted lies on your behalf. I'm sure you'll tell me when you're good and ready."

He'd prefer it if she was to figure it out.

* * *

She did, at breakfast with her father. She'd been halfway to spooning porridge to her mouth when she just dropped the spoon, leaving it to splash in the bowl noisily.

"That's supposed to go up here, darling." he tapped his lip.

Her fingers twitched, she was counting back the days.

"Are you alright, Belle?" her father asked. "You've lost your color."

She narrowed her eyes at her husband, who casually spooned a heavy mouthful of porridge into his mouth, smiling so that it oozed between his lips.

"You." her eyes flicked to the ceiling as she thought back. "You knew."

"Knew what, love?" he swallowed the food, kicked back in his chair, hand and hook behind his head.

"You knew..." she blinked. "A week...? It only took you a week to figure it out?"

"I'm more'n just a pretty face, you know." He grinned, wiggled his eyebrows. "Congratulations, sweetheart. Three months, two weeks. We're in the safe zone."

Dunce, surprisingly put it together, popped to his feet, grinning widely.

"A baby?" he said, and was yanked down by Peggy, who shushed him to little effect. "A baby? Really?"

Maurice just about had a heart attack.

"Yes, lad." Killian beamed. "A baby."

* * *

Snow White had been a tremendous help in keeping Belle calm and informed of what was going on with pregnancies, having learned from her other friends.

All was well and good, but for his insatiable need for the sea and Belle's anxiousness over keeping the child. She was taking every precaution to keep their baby safe, but when he'd brought up names she had outrightly refused to engage in the conversation. She had walked away from talking to him about all things relating to the baby's life, including whether or not she'd take the baby on the ship or wait out it's youth on land.

She was scared of making plans in the event that she lost another baby, and it was driving him insane.

* * *

He rolled over, snuggled into her side, hand on the swell of her belly. She was well and truly along, with nearly a full sized baby in her womb. Eight and a half months, almost to the day, if his pinpoint accuracy was anything to go by.

He listened to her murmur and tucked his leg over hers - he jolted back, feeling blood, straight off the bed _- No, no, not again, how am I going to tell her-?_

He struck a match, lit a candle, his arm shaking. But she was fine - there was no wetness, he had been dreaming. He set the candle down, wiped a hand over his sweating face. She hadn't even stirred when he'd fallen off the bed.

"Thanks, love." he mumbled, and went to dunk his head in their wash basin. He held his breath and stayed under there for a good thirty seconds before rising and letting the air back out of his lungs, wiping his hair on a towel and shuffling back to his bed, blowing out the candle. He nuzzled her side again -

"Yer beard, Killian."

"Yes, darling?"

"Iz itchin' me."

"I apologize, love."

"Getrroff."

"Anything for you, princess."

"Not a princ'sss."

"Right you are, sweetheart."

She just grunted and shifted, spread eagle. He rolled his eyes - the woman was a starfish in her pregnancy, taking up all the space in the bed in a way she didn't usually do. How was he supposed to cuddle her when he couldn't fit on the bed?

He just made it work, like usual, finding a spot and tucking one of her legs between his, putting his nose on her navel with a series of sleepy kisses.

"Hello, baby." he said warmly, and pressed his ear to her belly. He listened for Belle's heart, and for the heart of his child, content and lulled half to sleep. He listened to the thumping of his beloved, all the noises of life under his ear, stirring and gurgling and alive. He loved feeling to the baby turn.

It was best at moment like this, when no one else was around to see. When it was him and his child, his little girl or baby boy and Belle, but not really Belle. She was too nervous for him to get attached when she was awake, to nervous to allow herself some mistake and lose another child.

With his damp hair, wet face, the breeze from the open window became blindingly apparent.

"Your mother," he huffed quietly. "I wouldn't dare say it when she was aware, you know, because she'd likely hurt me, but, she's a tad clumsy. You're not going to be like that, are you? Because my nerves are made of steel, but to be honest, little love, I don't think I can deal with another." he nosed her roses, which were oddly distorted with her size.

"I'll be right back." he untucked her leg from his, rolled off the bed, and shut the window as quietly as he could. He stretched, yawning widely as he tried to maneuver back beside her belly, rubbing his nose against the child beneath her skin.

"Now, baby mine. I think it's time enough for me to get some sleep." he'd just found the ultimately comfortable position, cracked open one eye to run his hand over the belly for the last time, when-

Rumplestiltskin's reptilian eyes, staring at him from over the swell of his wife's stomach. He didn't know what happened - he was too busy reacting - he only knew that Belle screamed and he was suddenly on the other side of the bed, sword in hand, swiping it through the darkness, aiming for a solid mass that wasn't there.

"Killian! _What are you doing_?!"

"I-"

"What?!"

"I thought- I saw-!"

"No! NO! You can't scare me!" she pressed her hand to her child. "Do you _want me_ to lose another baby?"

"Don't be _stupid_, woman."

"Then WHY WOULD YOU SCARE ME OUT OF SLEEPING?"

"Well if you really insist-" not allowed to scare her. What's more frightening than the Dark One hovering over your pregnant belly? He swept another look around, but he couldn't see anything. He very well could've been dreaming. "-I-... Had a nightmare."

"You're a downright _bloody liar_!"

"I saw - I saw the crocodile." he shifted. "I did... Must have dreamed it. I saw him and I just thought-"

"That shouting and jumping around was a good idea?" she snapped, wrapping herself up in his coat. "You call me stupid, Killian Jones, take a damn look at yourself!" and she proceeded to storm out.

"Belle!" he followed at a gallop. "Belle, listen to me, I swear I saw him-"

"YOU SAID YOU HAD A DREAM YOU SAW HIM!" she shoved him in the chest as Snow came out of the room, a gown pulled tight around her shoulders.

"Belle, if I was dreaming I'm sorry, but I don't know if I was-"

"YOU CAN'T SCARE ME LIKE THAT! HE _OBVIOUSLY _WASN'T THERE! DREAMS OR NO BLOODY DREAMS!" she shoved him twice more, whirled to look at Snow. "I CANNOT DEAL WITH HIM RIGHT NOW!"

"Okay, come on, come in here." Snow soothed, as the noble charged past her into the room.

"Belle-"

The little woman put herself between him and his wife. A dangerous thing to do at the best of times, but she did it, and she looked sorry for having to do so.

"I'll take care of her."

"_I_ can take care of her."

"She doesn't want you." she said softly, and reached out, tenderly rubbed his arm. "Go back to your room, Killian. I'll do what I can to get her back to you, I promise." she really was a gentle, lovely woman. He glared at the roof because the kind eyed woman didn't deserve his hateful glare.

"I mean it, Snow. I saw him." he said, with a heavy exhale. He adjusted his features to stop being so angry, to not offend her. "I did see him."

"I believe you." she glanced over her shoulder. "I'll- I'll put my bow by the bed. I'm a sure shot."

He could see Belle was hugging her stomach with both arms, sitting sadly on the end of the bed. He could just heft the fairest maiden in the land out of his way and pick his woman up, but she was so heavily pregnant the logistics of carrying her made him a little reluctant. Besides, Snow was there, soothing him with nothing more than the promises in her eyes.

"Keep the sword on her side." he mumbled, sheepishly handing her his.

"I will." she gave him a sad smile, and shut the door between them.

Killian sagged as he heard the lock click, listened as his love burst into frustrated, frightened tears, and retreated to his room. He realized the bed was terribly empty without a woman laying starfish in the middle of it, and couldn't get comfortable, not with a sword and hook competing in the middle of his chest.

He didn't realize until morning that the window was open again.


	31. Chapter 31

"We're going for a walk."

He'd marched straight up to them, ignoring the withering look from her father, the apprehension in Snow's face.

"I'm not going anywhere." she said flatly, lifting a cool tea to her mouth. "Least of all with you."

"I wasn't talking to _you_, woman." he knelt, put his hand on the top of her belly, pressing a kiss to it's centre. "Come on, baby mine. Your mother is in a mood, let's get out of here." he looked up because he knew he was adorable and she would give in. He rubbed his baby's spine, received a wayward punch in return, and slid his hook into the waist of her dress, pulling her up.

"I don't want to go on a walk." she grouched at the back of his head.

"I'm not above carrying you everywhere. Or, I don't know, commandeering a carriage or some such." he waved his hand around.

"Killian, we own carriages, you don't need to commandeer one." she applied her heels into the floor, stopping his stride.

"I want to go for a walk with my child," he said mildly. "You can't stop me, woman."

"Yes I bloody well can."

He stopped trying to drag her, still hooked on her skirt, and tugged her to him, eyes wide and wounded. She scoffed at the fake innocence, putting her hand on top of his, on the side of her stomach.

"Will you, though?"

She gave him a severely vexed look.

"If we were sleeping in the cabin I'd lock you out. You'd be squashed between Windy Joe and Wobbly Ken, and I wouldn't give a damn if you came topside gasping for oxygen." she looked over her shoulder to Snow. "Yes, we have a windy pirate. Nothing fancy. He's just gassy."

Snow giggled.

"We aren't in the cabin, love." he pressed a kiss on her brow. "I want you to come back to me."

"I always come back to you. Just not now." she said, annoyed, and unhooked him from her dress, beginning to teeter away. He stepped in front of her, more wounded this time, holding her hand in his, hiding the hook at the small of his back.

"Belle." he wasn't wearing his charcoal today. She liked him better with it, and told him so, flatly, much to his amusement. Then she noticed the clothes - the 'fancy clothes' he hated the visual aesthetics of. A dark blue shirt, a gold trimmed navy coat. He still had on the black trousers with his boots, but these were cotton, not leather. He looked like a derelict gentleman, at best.

She narrowed her eyes at his face.

"What game are you playing?"

"I'm not playing any game. Can't I look pretty for my wife?" and he fluttered his eyelashes at her. Like that was going to work.

"No." she said. She studied his clothes, the strategic hiding of his hook. "Gods, you're persistent."

"You knew that when you married me."

"I distinctly remember _you _married _me_."

"Because I loved you. And I still love you. And I love our baby and I want to go for a walk with the both of you." Snow was swooning, but his wife was immune. "Belle, love, if you ask me to beg I'll do it. But I'll toss you over my shoulder and do it in private. Silvertongue, and all that, some things just shouldn't be done in front of family."

And he wiggled his eyebrows at her father, who was nearly purple in the face.

"You're a terrible person." she accused, smacking his chest lightly.

"I can see you smiling, darling." he offered, and raised her hand to his mouth. "Can we save this drama and go, before your father has me locked away in the dungeon again?"

"I wouldn't mind seeing you in the dungeon again." she told him, and moved her hand to his arm, lifting her nose. "I'll walk with you. But not because I want to. _I _don't like you right now. I'm only going because baby wants a pastry."

"Of course, baby wants the pastry." He didn't even flinch when she hit his arm, he just took it as a forgiveness, and put his arm around her, kissing her cheek. "Baby wants to come for a walk with daddy, is what baby wants."

"Don't push your luck, pirate. You really need to do something about that beard." she said and rubbed her face. "It's driving me insane."

"I'm aware." he sighed, mourning the beard before she'd even made him lose it. He glanced at Snow, who was beaming fondly at the interaction, gave her a wink as a thankyou for taming the mood, somewhat. Sir Maurice didn't particularly like that.

He didn't particularly care.

They perused the market - he almost got a barber to get rid of his facial hair, but got cold feet at the last minute, promising his wife it would go (just not _when_, it would go). Baby got the pastry (and two more for later) and Belle got out of her mood. They had finally surfaced from the bleakness of the pregnancy woes when Killian stopped mid sentence, his eyes gone wide.

Tom. Still thin, still a follower, still styling his facial hair to a neat point.

Adam. Still scarred, still blonde, still a big man.

Both were staring.

"Bugger." Belle said, and tugged his hand, already backtracking. "Killian..."

He started trotting backwards, his hand going for his sword, as the duo advanced. He had his hook on, thank the gods, paranoid due to dreams and all from the night prior. Tom grinned rather suddenly, and Killian turned just in time to see Jon throw a knife.

He knocked it away with his hook - lifting his sword to the man's face. He could feel Belle's panted breaths, puffed on to the back of his neck, as they advanced, drawing their own weapons. The few townspeople on the road scattered; not one person came to their aid. He could care less for their lack of chivalry. He could take them. He would be fine.

But Belle...

"Hm. Pregnant."

"Didn't think you'd keep her around this long_, Captain Hook_."

"Must be a half decent lay."

"You take care how you speak about my wife." he pointed the sword at Jon, his eye twitching. "Or I'll cut your tongue so you can't speak at all."

"Yeah, yeah." Tom snickered, eyes going to Belle's stomach. "Never had a woman so heavily pregnant, before."

"And it'll remain that way." Killian said through his teeth. "You leave her alone."

Adam stepped forward, his gaze on her frightened face, hands curled into white-knuckled fists on his sword hilt.

"I don't have a single problem with you, Captain." he said with his peculiar, scarred drawl. "She's the one that made the trouble. She's the one that threw me over board."

"I never picked a fight with you, not once. You put hands on me." she snapped in reply. "You got what was your due come uppance. Your only problem is you were bested by a woman-"

"You didn't best me." he snarled, his scarred mouth pulling into a vicious sneer. "No, you'd have to kill me, and you don't have the guts. You killed Micheal, though."

"I did no such-"

"No, no, you did. You had him shoved him over board. He drowned."

Her hand found the back of Killian's shirt, and she swayed.

"Good." Killian said sharply. "You lot try anything again, and you'll wish you'd have so easy a death as to drown."

"No, but you definitely will." Jon lifted a knife.

Belle's shriek made his heart clench. That could've also had something to do with the knife in his chest. He looked at it, watched the knife thrower advance, and didn't think twice about ramming his hook straight through the man's eye.

He flailed, fell to his knees, mostly useless, screaming in pain. Killian felt pain, alright, but fear overrode it.

"Sweetheart, get baby to safety." he murmured, and was rather disheartened to find blood spilled out of his mouth with his words. He turned, his shoulders hiding his woman, lifting his sword at the other men, who were horrified he was still standing._ He,_ was horrified he was still standing.

And then he wasn't.

She caught him, lowered him to the ground, her hands finding his sword. She swung it at Adam as he advanced, cutting open a dark red line on his thigh. He snarled some low cuss at her and stomped on the blade, wrenching it from her hands. She scrambled, found Killian's boot knife - and as the big blonde pulled her up, under her arms, she knocked her elbow into his bicep, turned, and stabbed him in the throat.

Blood gushed out at her with a hissed exhale of hot air - she shoved him away, lifting a shaking knife at Tom - always the coward, hiding behind his friends, he didn't know where to go, what to do.

"HELP!" she sunk back to the floor, had one hand pressed around the wound in Killian's chest, the knife still pointed at the former pirate. "No, no, no-"

She glanced back at her husband, sobs in her throat.

"Killian!"

He cracked a smile to let her know he was alright, proud of her slaying the man who'd meant her harm. It would've been a nice smile, had it not been covered in blood.

"SOMEBODY! HELP US!" she turned away to scream it into the forest. "PLEASE! ANYBODY!"

"Anybody?" purred a low voice.

The two men before her were swallowed by thick purple smoke. The third, with his eye nothing more than a bloody hole in his head, soon followed. Rumplestiltskin's head hovered over Killian, watched him struggle for breath, choking on blood, trying to motion for his wife to run.

"Pretty ring." the scaly man murmured, looking at the wedding band on his finger. He sought out Belle's matching one, and gave a disturbingly high giggle. "Very pretty, dearie."

Killian's whole world was going dark. He caught her hand and pressed a bloody kiss to it, thumb running over her ruby. He tried to push her away at the shoulder but she kept his hand, put it on her belly, hysterical.

"I thought this would be more... satisfying." he tipped his head, staring at the heavily bleeding pirate.

"RUM!" she couldn't even finish a sentence, looking at him. So she pulled her husband's head to her lap - best she could with the belly - and carded desperate, trembling fingers through his hair, pressed her hand to the blood on his chest. "Hold on, Killian, please, please, hold on for me, for baby, we can't- our little girl needs a father, Killian."

His eyes went wide in response.

"A girl, love, we're having a little girl, and she needs you, she needs her papa. Your girls need you, please, love, hold on for us."

"He's not going to survive another full minute." Rumplestiltskin said, peering down at him. "If you made me a deal I could-"

Killian gave about revived enough to strangle him, or at least yank the knife out of his chest and shove it into the imp's tongue, nail it to the roof of his mouth to stop him from making deals with his wife.

"We need you, Killian, please."

"Don't- Deal-"

"Rumple?" Belle whimpered.

"I just want a ten minute audience with you, Belle." he said easily, still staring at Killian, his rapidly paling skin, wheezed breathing. "In return for a private conversation, I would of course, allow your..." his hand twisted, sprinkled in Killian's general direction.

"Husband..." he looked up at her, her already won expression. "To live."

"Deal!"

Killian made a gruff noise, trying to protest, but the magician had already pulled the knife out, put his hand over the hole in his chest, and began to heal it. He could feel muscle and bone crunching together, air easier to draw in, his words cursed out. Belle petted his hair away from his face, still openly weeping.

"A girl?" he coughed. "A baby girl?"

She nodded, laughing through her tears.

"We're having a little girl?" he leaned into the belly. "Gods help me if she's... anything like you. I'll be whipped left, right and centre." his ear tuned for her heart - while he listened for it, he lifted hooded eyes to the imp, who had his head cocked, as if he didn't understand the affection.

Her bloodied hands smoothed his hair, held him close.

"As charming as this is." Rumplestiltskin put his hand out to Belle. "We have a deal."

"Yes, I know." she said, and pressed a kiss to her fingertips, passing it down to her husband. If she could've bent to deliver it herself, she would've. As it was, her belly was too big to do much but struggle to her feet, aided by the scaly man.

"Belle-" his hands caught her dress. He couldn't sit up - he was in too much pain, still. The crocodile leered, his upper lip pulling into a sneer, one that Belle missed. He'd done it on purpose.

"It's alright Killian." she offered him a trembling smile. "I trust him."

"I don't." staring at her, only at her, because if he saw how the crocodile had his hand on her, how she was leaning into him, he was going to drive his hook up into his kneecaps and rip them out.

"Then trust me." she said, and put her hand on her heart. "_Trust me_."

He couldn't. Not with this. He tried to sit but couldn't - his hand pressed against his chest, the wound that was still slowly healing.

"Belle." He had to watch the man take his heavily pregnant wife and disappear in yet more sinister purple smoke. "Belle!"

His healing coincided with the smoke pluming - he launched, arms outstretched, but landed hard, having hit nothing. He grunted, rolled over, hand on his heart, to see Snow and Maurice running to him, guards in tow.

"What happened?" barked the knight. "Where's Belle?"

"That- gods - cursed - Croc-o-dile-"

He was fuming, alright, whatever blood that was still in him boiled. But the rage didn't have a damn thing on the fear. He was completely terrified, looking up at Snow and her concern with tears building on his lower lashes.

"That_- bastard _- has - my _wife!"_

* * *

It was quiet for the sound of Belle breathing heavy, feeling dizzy at the travel, heart still fluttering at the image of Killian with a knife in his chest. Her baby rolled, hating the sensation of her fretting mother. She looked around - she was in the Dark Castle, in the extremely dusty, unaired library. She wanted to chastise him, but couldn't find the energy.

"I found my son." he said, trying to hide the awkward. "He's, home, with me. Safe."

"That's... good." she rubbed her belly, wincing. "Can I... sit?"

"Of course." he clicked his fingers, helped her into a fluffy cushioned chair, eyes wide on her stomach. "So... A baby, with him."

"Yes." she sagged, lethargic, into the seat. "A girl."

"I heard." he swallowed, lifted a hand, hovering it over her stomach, before jerking it away to his own lap. "And you're... You're happy."

"Not currently. My husband did almost die a minute ago, and I'm scared I'm going to lose a third baby as a result of all the-" she sniffed, made a motion, the words getting logged in her throat.

"Drama." he murmured, and drew a silken handkerchief out of thin air.

"Hmm." she wiped her eyes with it, tried to steady out her breathing while dabbing her face and nose. "How is-...Your son?"

"Baelfire. He's good. Safe, at home, with me." he lifted his hand to her tear stained face, careful fingers on her cheek. "I wish I could say the same for you."

Her smile wobbled.

"You-..." a breath was released. "I thought you hated me?"

"I don't... Hate you, Belle." he took his hand away with a jolt, like her words had burned him. "I could never hate you. You just... made your decision. I understand."

"You walked away from me." she caught his hand, tears falling. "You left me, Rumple. I didn't-"

She crumpled for a minute, holding onto her stomach, as if to draw strength from her child.

"I didn't love him, I barely liked him, when you left me."

"But you do now." he turned away from her, his shoulders hunched, elbows on his knees. "You love him now."

She gulped back fear.

"Please," she whispered. "Don't hurt me-"

"I'm not going to hurt you." he said bitterly, and lifted his eyes to her face. "What makes you think I want to hurt you?"

"If you hurt him..." she put her hand out, ashamed of how it shook, but applied it to his shoulder blade and rubbed. "If you were to hurt him, Rumplestiltskin, I would be the one to suffer."

He deflated, looking miserable, before he turned away from her again.

"You're the second woman I've had stolen away by the same man." he murmured. "And I hated Milah for leaving Bae more than anything, for abandoning her son, not me. She deserved to die - but I couldn't repeat history with you. So I left. I can't say I would do the same thing again. It doesn't always end this way, you know." he added darkly.

"What do you mean?" she tugged at his shirt, causing him to meet her inquisitive eyes. His hand hovered over her stomach - she put it down there, guiding him into laying a hand on her daughter's spine, her thumb stroking the back of his hand.

He softened, his pupils honing in on the way she touched him.

"I mean that, in another reality, that pirate leaves you in the tower instead of taking you along. In another universe, you remain a prisoner, and I don't get my son for a long, long time." he made a motion, like drawing a like with two hands. "In our world, the second of change started with him choosing to take you." he made a spike.

"Then, the most significant choice you made was to go back to him, to the ship, instead of staying in Agraba. In that world, things change again. You would've gone through the motions of adventure before branching into your own future - you end up a warrior princess beside a woman who trains like a man." made another spike, then flattened it out, and smiled at her.

"How do you know all this?" she smiled softly.

He stopped smiling, then.

"Because in those worlds, we are... You don't go back to _him_, let's just say."

"Oh, Rum..." she started crying. "Don't tell me that. You know I still love you."

"I don't know how." he informed her, his strange voice becoming almost human. "I don't know how you could, when he's given you everything you deserve. Adventure. A baby. A handsome face."

"It was never about looks, you know that." she wiped her eyes on the proffered handkerchief. She pulled him closer, closer, until he was putting his arms around her gently, so gently, like he was scared to hurt her.

She proceeded to cry all over him, which he smoothed out with his hands, tenderly rubbing her spine until she could finally draw breath without it being in a strangled sob.

"Our ten minutes is well and truly up." he told her with a wicked smile. "Your husband will be _furious_."

She tried to hide her tearful laughter behind her hand.

"Take me back to my castle, please." she said, and fixed a stray lock of hair on his head.

"Of course." He lifted her carefully, holding onto both hands. He smiled, a faint amusement glittering in his reptilian eyes, and pulled her into a position, like dancing. Smoke engulfed them - they danced on her great hall. She looked around, to see Killian had already run at her, sword in hand.

She stepped in front of Rumplestiltskin and he skidded to a halt.

"Belle?" he was still sickly looking, still covered in blood. Snow had changed into something more fitting of a woman with a bow in her hands, which was leveled at Rumplestiltskin's eye. Her father, likewise, was in armor and thickly padded leather, raising his sword in a 'ready' position.

"Put down the sword." she told both the men. "The bow, too."

"He-" the noise that came out of his mouth wasn't human. It was part wheeze, part growl, all fury and fear. "Took you away!"

"I know." she said simply. "But I'm back. I came back to you."

Snow's bow dropped.

"No." he shook his head. "No. I'm not going to forgive him because you're giving me doe eyes, wife. Now move away so I can kill him and be done."

"Go on then." Rumple taunted, stepping around Belle. "Come on, pirate. Do your worst."

"If you two start this again, I'll kill whoever makes it out alive." Belle moved between them. She glanced at Rum, lifted a placating hand and putting it on his collar. "Rum, please. Leave. I'll see you again."

Killian stepped forward, but was shot back, collecting the quietly advancing knight, sending them both in a heap. Snow lifted the arrow, but it snapped clean in half, the rest of them floated out of her quiver and did the same.

"I never did give you a wedding present, did I?" he mused, crouching to her stomach. "How rude of me! Better late than never!"

He made sure Killian was watching as he pressed a kiss on her tummy.

"This baby, and every baby thus from your womb..." he put glowing hands on her belly, making her jolt at the warm sensation. "Will be born safe and healthy as can be. Two is two too many to lose, to me." he giggled at the alliteration, rose, bowed, and backflipped into nothingness.

Belle folded the handkerchief, dabbed her eyes with it, and tucked it in the front of her dress, holding her stomach as she turned to be embraced by her husband, who held onto her and kissed the saltiness from her cheeks.

"I love you." she told him, and allowed him to press his face against her chest. "I'll always come back to you, you know that. It's alright, sweetheart. I'm alright."

"I thought-" he choked.

"I had to. You were dying." and just to take his mind from all the terrible things that had just happened, she pressed his hand to her rolling baby, and said: "Your girls needed you to be alive."

"My girls." he repeated, and kissed her sternum. "Mine."


	32. Chapter 32

He found the handkerchief folded and hidden away between the pages of her favorite romance novel.

He'd been looking for something to scrub the crusted blood from his hook, and there it was, shiny, expensive, made of magic. He waited for her to come and see just what exactly was keeping him from breakfast, twirling it on his hook, watching the corners fan out like it was the most fascinating thing to behold. He thought he could handle it like a gentleman, carefully asking what it meant for her to have kept this token, the minor gift he'd given her to dab at tears, tears the crocodile bastard had caused himself.

"You still love him!" was the first accusation that flew out of his mouth, when she asked him what he was doing.

"You know I do." was her gentle reply.

He had decided that sitting down was the best way to go about things, that looming over her and shouting was not a good way to be when they were both trying to keep from stress on their daughter. He was on his feet when he realized his plan of attack was failing dismally - so he took a sharp turn away from her and put his hand on the wall for support.

"It's not right Belle." he said lowly. "I am your husband. You keep your heart for me, and me alone."

"You gave your heart away a long time before I was around, Killian. It's hardly fair of you to make that demand of me when you know I did the same."

He curled his hand into a fist.

"Milah," he said roughly. "Is dead. Like your dear crocodile should be. He should be _dead_!" His fist hit the wall. He couldn't understand why he was so fervently angry.

"And death," she murmured, leaning against the door frame. "That stopped you from loving her?"

"Never!" he snarled.

"Then what makes you think death would stop making me feel for Rum?" she blinked at him evenly. "Or that my marriage to you would have any impact on it?" she took a breath.

"You know he's my Milah."

"Don't you dare compare my love to that murderous dog!" he exploded. "You wouldn't have meant a thing to me, had Milah lived! Don't say it isn't so - her death was the only reason you and I ever crossed paths, and you well know it! So you should thank her, not mock her!"

"I'd never mock Milah." she said flatly. "But I won't thank her, either, seeing as she's _dead."_

He over turned their dressing table, making her flinch, but not retract her words, not back down. She was fearless of the rage, but not totally untouched by the tantrum. She had never seen him come apart like he was doing now. He seemed caught up more in his own head than in reality - an avid reader as she was, she recognized this almost instantly.

"You still love _her_." she pointed out.

'That's different." he jabbed his finger at her. "That's - bloody - _different_."

"How?"

"Milah is dead. She's dead, and you love the man who ripped her heart out-!"

"I'm not talking to you when you're like this." she shook her head at him, as though he were a stubborn child, stomping his foot over something trivial, like bed time. "You're in a mood, and I'm not going to engage in it."

"A mood?" He shook the handkerchief at her. "You love a living, breathing person, and I love the memory of one, and you call that the same thing?"

"What if Milah did still live, then? If she'd killed Rum?"

"Were Milah still alive, I wouldn't bloody be with you, would I?"

That made her recoil, as if he'd hit her.

"You-... You know what I mean. I wouldn't have found you, I wouldn't have taken you from the castle, had Milah..." he frowned. "Don't turn this around. It's not going to change anything. You- Belle, Oi! No- NO!" he ducked around her, planted himself in the way of her exit.

"You don't get to turn me down this time, woman, you listen to me!"

"Then hurry up and make your point." she said in a hard voice. "And try to avoid wounding me on the way there, won't you?"

"It's not fair!" he spat. "It's not bloody fair, don't make out like it is - you love someone who loves you in return, who's still alive, and around and - and Milah-"

"Milah is dead." she said simply. "I know."

He slammed his fist into the door, then again, because the feel of his knuckles bursting over with hot blood made him feel like his point was being made. He was beyond furious. How could she just look at him, with her big doe eyes, make him feel like he was doing something wrong? It wasn't his fault her heart was being unfaithful.

"You're angry because you think I'm going to leave you, for him." she searched his face. "I've always held your intelligence in high regard, Killian Jones, but you make me doubt myself."

"_Watch it_." he said through his teeth.

"No, you watch it." she narrowed her eyes. "Remember calling me stupid for being in love? Not nice, is it? I am pregnant with _your daughter_. I am married to _you_. I sleep by _your side_. I keep one physical memory of Rumplestiltskin and that's all that it takes for you to doubt me?" she shoved him in the chest, but held onto the door frame and didn't move.

"I wonder, then, how it made him feel, that Milah was_ his wife_, slept in _his bed_, and gave birth to _his son_? Then you took her away!"

"That's not the same thing." he said again, but it was weaker. He understood something that he hadn't wanted to acknowledge for a long, long time. "That's... That's different."

"Is it?" she was giving him this, cool, calm look, like he hadn't affected her in the slightest. "You have her name tattooed on your arm. You have memories of her on the Roger. You have a lock of her hair on a chain. Oh, yes, I know about the hair." she lifted the kerchief from his hook, where it had been pierced in his tantrum, and folded it into a neat square.

"And this, this is what I get to keep of him. So yes, you're right, love. It's not fair. It's not the same thing." she put her hands on his chest again, more guiding him aside than pushing. And he went. He was ashamed, and he was still hurt, so he hooked the front of her dress and held onto her sleeve with the other.

"Belle-"

"You need to move." she said quietly. "Because I'm going to leave."

"Please don't." he hugged her tight, then, his head dropped to her shoulder. "I don't want you to leave me."

"I'll always come back to you, Killian." she said into his shoulder, and pushed his ribs. "But I am walking away from you now, before either of us says something particularly unforgivable."

"No." he kissed her neck, her collar bone, peppering his apologies up to her ear. "Don't leave me, love."

"Move." she said, and pushed him again, this time continuing to press against his chest until he took his steps back, shuddering under her hands.

He hit the wall and let her walk away, hand trailing down her arm to her fingers. He made a half hearted attempt to curl his fingers into keeping her with him, but she was already walking, already leaving, already turned away. He sank to the floor, hand coming up to cover his eyes, leaking slightly.

Dainty footsteps treaded along the hall. It wasn't long before they stopped beside him, and Snow slid down to match him, taking his bloodied hand in hers to dab lightly at the cracks in his hands with a strip of cloth.

"She loves you."

"I accused her-..."

"I know." she winced. "It was hard not to hear."

She wrapped the length of cloth around his knuckles, tying it off firmly, and held onto his palm between two warm hands. She kept hold of him and didn't recoil when he leaned his head across to hers, she just reached up and patted his hair, smoothing it out like a mother might soothe a child.

"It's going to be okay, Hook." she said warmly.

"It isn't right now."

"But it will be."

"Nothing ever goes right for the villain." he reminded her loftily. "I'm a no good, dirty rotten pirate. Weren't you aware?"

"If that's how you feel, it's how you feel, it doesn't make you a bad man. Maybe you approached it the wrong way, but you're not wrong." she turned her head, making him lift to receive her comforting look. "She does love him. But she has an equal amount of love for you."

"Equal isn't good enough." he took his hand away from her, cocking a brow at the wrapping, how it was now blooming a pink color, stained by his blood. He'd done a lot of bleeding, recently.

"She's made her choice." she went on, in her same warm tone. "You, are it."

"She could still leave."

"She'll always come back to you."

"But she has to walk away to begin with, doesn't she?" he lifted his brows. "She has to leave, to come back, love, and that's the problem."

"The problem is you're scared you're going to lose her." the princess pointed out, matter-of-fact as you please.

"So what if I am?" he looked into the room, the smashed mirror upon the floor, bits of wood chipped from the dresser, her books strewn about from where he'd hunted through to find the handkerchief.

"You need to stop being afraid of losing her, or you're going to push her away." the woman said, and patted his knee. "You're a good man, Hook. You just need to fine tune your husbandry, a little bit."

"And where," he drawled, fixing her with a stubborn look. "Should I aim my efforts, milady?"

* * *

Belle had retreated to Snow's room, sat with a book propped on her legs, rubbing her stomach to soothe it. She was half way through a fantasy about a pirate lass who paraded as a man for years upon the ship before she was found out - but she lost interest, and threw it across the room.

"That wasn't nice." her husband peered around the corner of the door. "What did that book do to you?"

"It lied." she turned her head to the window. "Said something about true love being effortless."

"Oh." he opened the door, crossed the room, and stomped on the book. "Lie to my wife, will you?"

She didn't laugh. Didn't even look at him.

"Are you thinking about tattooing me again, darling?"

"I'm thinking that if I could, I'd be beating you to a bloody pulp." she said casually. "No time for ink. Just fists. Perhaps a plank of wood."

"I see." he made his way around the bed, sitting by her, tipping her chin to steer her eyes up to his. "Snow told me something about flowers, and apologies. She told me that I had to apologize for insinuating what I did. She told me I was to give you your favorite things, and tell you the truth."

She was quiet, eyebrows cocked.

"I didn't bring flowers because I can't arrange them to save myself - and Snow said you'd know if she did it. I can't give you the sea, either, love." he said gently. "As much as I'd like, I can't give you the men, or a sail around the harbor. Chase's due back in time for baby to be born, but until then, we're on our own. All three of us." he bent slowly, maintaining eye contact, and kissed the top of her belly.

"So what I've got left is the truth. And the truth is, I'm never going to like the fact you love the crocodile. The truth is I love you. I love baby. I love us."

She gave him a small smile. He grinned, sensing victory, and leaned in for a kiss.

"Oh no you don't." she said flatly, and smacked his arm. "I want pastries and I want cool tea. And you can rub my back. Then I'll kiss you and accept your sorry excuse for an apology, seeing as you never actually apologized." her expression morphed into something less serious, and she pressed a kiss to her hand, passing it to his cheek. He nibbled her palm, jumping up, giving the book an extra kick on his way out.

* * *

Labor was a terrible thing on Belle. He'd wanted to be with her when his daughter was born but had been forcibly removed after threatening the midwives so badly they barely wanted to touch the screaming, crying wife. A whole day of pain and suffering and tears, with him pacing outside, occasionally trying to worm his way back into the room.

Maurice was sitting, nervously twitching, covering his ears every time she bellowed. There were a few choice words about Killian in there that made him chuckle under his breath, but the pirate was far from amused. When it got to the nineteenth hour, he couldn't take it anymore, and commandeered Laurence to kick in the door and see what was happening.

Four hours later, and his daughter was tiny and wailing. When he saw Belle with the little wrinkly bundle he stopped in the door way, heart beating hard enough to be heard outside his body, he was sure. Laurence was wiping his hands, but nodding.

"Perfectly healthy. All ten fingers and toes. Congratulations, you're a father."

He looked blankly at Laurence, to his wife, to his wife's father. He trembled under the weight of the new title.

_Killian Jones._

_Hook. Captain of an elite vessel. All feared pirate. Husband, lover, the stuff dreams are made of._

_Father._

She was everything, this little baby, who was gurgling and toothless, with a dark head of hair already. He sat by Belle and pressed his face to the top of her head, gazing at the child. His bones felt old, so terribly old, when he measured the life of this baby against his, when he thought of what was to come. First words, first steps.

First men.

"I'm never letting her be courted." was the first thing out of his mouth. "Ever."

Belle giggled, grey faced, exhausted, but the light in her eyes was like stars.

"Do you want to hold her?"

"I-" he looked at his hook. Would he be able to?

"Here." Maurice was openly bawling. He put a pillow in it's case over the hooked limb (like that wasn't an overreaction) and carefully eased the child out of his daughter's arms, into the father's. "Oh, Belle. My girl. She's beautiful. Well done."

Killian caught his breath, held it, and ran his nose gently over her brow. The baby squirmed, making noises like wordless chatter, legs kicking, arms stretching. Her little hands were tiny, so tiny, nails nearly invisible to his eyes. He pressed gentle kisses against those tiny little fingers, chasing them as she tried to escape him.

"Your beard, Killian."

"She doesn't mind." he let out in an accidental sob. The little hand pressed against his mouth, as if to hush him, so he stayed quiet, kept in his tears.

Laurence gave Belle a hug and retreated to tell the rest of the men the good news. The grandfather then got a chance at blubbering all over the new born, while Killian and Belle got to hold each other. With a significantly smaller stomach, it was strange to hug to so tightly again. He listened to her heart, watching the babe and the knight, missing the sound of two heart beats in one body.

Snow gasped when she saw her - she gave Killian a hug, patting his shoulder, sensing his inner turmoil. He gave a gruff thanks, sniffed up his emotions as one by one, Belle's friends came in to peer at the little girl. Dunce was nearly bouncing, he was so excited. Peggy clasped forearms with the Captain, limping over to Maurice to do the same, offering his congratulations, which made the noble wipe his face to hide the tears.

Will was staring at the baby with one wide eye, like he'd never seen one before.

"Just makes it real, you know?" he kept saying. "It's easy to think of Belle just being fat, not an actual mother. You know?"

Kong hugged her, Phil strummed a gentle ballad on his guitar, something soothing, adding ambiance to the too-quiet room. Smith had been crying, red rims around his eyes, making the blue of his iris pop. He had been sincere and wonderful, gentle with her, then he'd noticed Snow and suddenly he was flexing and fine, no, not crying, something in his eye.

* * *

They'd moved her to a big bed, Snow in the room just over, the door cracked so she could hear if Belle needed her. Killian had put his head on her chest to begin the night but they'd migrated, and she woke to find she had traded places with him. He had his hand tangled in her hair, keeping her close, his stump up over his eyes. She thought she had heard the baby stirring, so she lifted to light a candle.

Rum beat her to it, the light low enough to allow her sight, not to disturb the husband or the friend in the next room.

"Hello, Rum." she whispered, and smiled. He was rocking the baby's bed, something old and practiced. His mouth twitched in reply, not happy, not hurt. "Are you okay?"

"Me, dearie?" he reached over, put a hand on her hair. "I didn't give birth to my first babe scant hours ago."

"I'd hope not."

His hand traced the shape of her face.

"Rum?"

"Hm?"

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I have my own son back home. I wanted to make sure our spell had worked." he cocked his head.

"You told me once-..." she glanced at Killian, who'd mumbled, reached for her in his sleep. She gave him her hand, and he linked their fingers lazily. This was apparently enough to pacify him, because he went straight back to a deep slumber, snoring slightly. "...Once you said, 'all magic has a price'..."

"It's paid for." he promised her. "On my behalf. Don't worry about it. My gift, I told you."

"What did you do, Rumple?" she was still tired, but she matched his stare with conviction enough that he knew he wouldn't be able to back out of her conversation without being chased.

"Those men." he said simply. "Those men who tried to harm you. Who stabbed your husband."

"What about them...?"

He looked grim, even under the smile.

"A life is a life, dearie."

She winced.

"They did suffer, you know." his eyes glittered. He looked malicious. "I made sure they suffered. Which is _why_ I was late in giving the gift to you. My apologies, again." he bowed slightly, heard the baby whining, and went to rock her some more. He touched her nose, giggling quietly, and soon she was back to sleep.

"Thank you." she said gently, and reached out for him. She held his hand, while her husband held hers. She loved them both, but she was more engrained in Killian than she was attached to her legs. "For everything."

"It's not much." he shrugged, but smiled for the praise.

"It's more than enough." she promised, and heard her husband finally stir to waking.

"S'th' bubba wakin'?" he sat up, scrubbed his face. "D'you need me?"

"No, love, I'm alright. She was just fussing." she glanced back, but Rum was already long gone. "She's been good. Lay down, sweetheart."

"C'mere, woman." he smiled as he retired, pulling her back to his chest, a new habit for him. "Wife. Mother. Princess. How d'you feel?"

She sighed, and rubbed his chest, kissing his collar bone quietly. No matter how many times she cracked him for it, he still called her princess.

"I feel... good." she murmured. "Content. Anxious for the crying to start. Babies are never so good for too long."

"She's different." he promised, rubbing her arm lazily. "She's perfect, because she's ours. And she, needs a name. I haven't been thinking of one, t' tell the truth, not s'good with namin' things... I didn't name the Jolly Roger sober, at least... What've you thought of, my lady?"

"I have a name picked." Belle whispered into his hair, making him raise his lids to look on her glowing face. "I'll understand if you don't want it. I do love the name." She smiled, tears leaking out of her eyes, and kissed him, before telling him the name that made him proceed to cry, like the very dignified pirate he was.


	33. Chapter 33

"_Milah Rose_!" Belle pressed a hand over her eyes. "Gods, I can't watch."

She had thought it was a good idea for her husband to be a father. She was wrong. Why?

Because anything made by him was spawn of a devil.

"Papa! Papa! LOOK!" She was upside down, with a grinning pirate lad holding her there, nigh on par with the crow's nest.

"She's alright, lady Belle." Will, now in his late teens, grinned as he slid down to swing above her. The little girl was tied to him at the waist, and trying to climb higher, scabbed knees digging into his waist as she tried to get up onto his shoulders. "A natural on the ropes. Promise."

"I don't- Killian, your daughter?"

"What about her?" he didn't even look up from his maps.

"Killian Jones," she rounded on him. "You get your daughter off those ropes before I have a heart attack." she yelped as Will swung out over the ocean, the little girl squealing her laughter.

"Bring me my baby, lad, before the wife tries to throttle me!" he motioned for them over with a bright smile, finishing up directions on the map. Chase just grimaced - he'd taken the scenic route, not the most efficient one. He steered his daughter down onto his shoulders, which made Belle relax significantly, her muscles going loose from where they'd been nervously up around her shoulders. He held onto the sniggering four year old as she hugged his head, following Will's swinging around with nearly her entire body. He looked amused at Belle, eyebrows raised.

"Don't give me that look." she huffed. "She's a little girl, Killian-"

"My daughter does as she pleases." he mused up at the girl, who grinned. "Rose, you were scaring your mother. Did you know that?"

"Yup." she pressed a kiss on his hair.

He beamed.

"Look at that face, would you? You bloody gorgeous cherub."

Belle sighed.

"I have to get her into something presentable for court." she held up a blue dress. "Or at least bathe her."

"Nope!" the child, spitting image of her father that she was, cocked a grin and directed it at her mother. "Not today, mumma."

"Well, that settles that." Killian began to walk off. "Come watch the horizon for this kingdom we always hear about, my little hellion, see if you can spot it before Willhelm."

"Challenge accepted!" she reached for his spyglass, which he handed up, letting her look around, mostly at the pirates on the ship. "Ew, Dunce's pickin' his nose!"

"Did he pick a winner?"

"Don't think so, still diggin'." she leaned closer, like that'd help her see better, hanging onto Killian with one hand, the spyglass with the other.

"Must be for treasure." he guessed.

"Maybe he needs a map?"

"Killian." Belle couldn't keep the proud grin off her face. "The court?"

"She doesn't need to be prettied up," he said, waving his hook around. "I wouldn't worry about it, darling." he accepted back the spyglass, tucking it into his holster.

"Just blame me for being devious pirate scum and I'm sure our dear Snow and Charming will understand. It's not like they've forgotten what I am. Snow likes me any way, she's not going to care. And besides, I highly doubt her royal highness will recognize our little mermaid in anything but breeches any way."

Belle had been listening, but was distracted by her daughter casually stealing the many pretty shiny things Killian wore around his wrist. She waited for him to notice, but he continued on with his winning father of the year speech, with his 'she doesn't need to fit any stereotype' and 'my daughter is who she is, and no one will change her'.

"Your daughter is robbing you blind." Belle mentioned. "But do continue."

He glanced up, saw the totally unashamed giggling creature with his trinkets in her little fists, and grinned up at her.

"Well done, Rose!"

"Ta papa!" she kissed his forehead again, squashing his skull in a hug.

"Chase." Belle said, rolling her eyes. "Take the wheel."

"What for?" Killian scoffed. "I can steer the boat with my daughter."

"You can, but not when you're in our cabin, washing." she raised a brow. "March, or I'll march you there."

"Are you going to help me?" he cooed. "Take my clothes off?"

"If you're going to be difficult." she replied with a strategically placed lick of her mouth. Rose was handed to Dunce, who was her best friend and current go-to nanny, and dragged her husband to their room to 'bathe'.

* * *

To say the ship had been tamed was an understatement. Killian no longer took on rapers, nor cutthroats, only men who wanted adventure, with a skill set or two. Kong had left not long ago to pursue his own adventure toward some mythical island that boasted huge creatures - but they hadn't heard when he'd be back.

It wasn't unheard of for them to take aboard the odd royal, or two. Snow White, for example, was a frequent passenger - the princess lass was cut like a diamond, pretty but hard wearing. He was very fond of her.

That wasn't to say that all the nonsense that came with piracy had yet to diminish. They battled storms, other pirates - Belle had been kidnapped by an old, stupid foe, when Rose was just a little wailing creature who couldn't yet distinguish faces. Killian had been torn between his girls, not trusting a single man with the baby, but unable to let Belle's fate to other men.

Luckily, he was a man with string he could pull.

* * *

They'd just-... Taken her, but he had to protect Rose, first and foremost, his baby girl couldn't do it so he'd do it for her. Belle could handle a sword. And when he'd come out with a baby nursed on his chest, looking to check that all was well - every face was grey and no body said a thing until Dunce had blurted it. Nothing was well.

Belle was gone.

Two days, he and Laurence tried to feed the little girl on something that wasn't Belle, but she wouldn't take. They had no idea where they'd kidnapped her, no idea what they'd do with her, no idea how his revenge would be taken.

He was holding the wailing infant and over looking the sea, trying to stop his daughter from starving, when the dark sky churned and cracked with thunder. He hardly cared for the sudden storm, until he saw the ship draw up along side his.

Only Blackbeard stepped onto the deck, coming over to peer at the baby, dark eyes lit up from the inside.

"'Lo, Jonesey." he said gruffly, and cocked a brow at the way the little girl had simpered and quieted upon his appearance. "And this mus' be Jonesey Lass. 'Lo, bub."

She kicked out at him.

He cracked a grin.

"Belle-"

"I know. That's what'm here for." his strange lit-up eyes hit the Captain full force. "You're a good lad, Jones. Known you a long time. Never done me any wrong, have you?"

He shrugged one shoulder, his stare was even.

"I'll git your wife back. Wipe the scowl off your face." he peered down at the baby again, who was reaching for his beard, which he obliged by moving closer so her little fists could close around braids. She didn't pull, she just squeezed, and quieted until she giggled, making nonsense noise at him and looking up at Killian like she had found some marvelous new toy to play with.

"Charming lass, she is." and then, perhaps the most terrifying thing the hooked man had ever seen - Blackbeard the great and terrible _cooed_ at her, offered a finger for her to take hold of with both fists and drag up to her mouth. She gnawed on the fingertip and made sad noises, but didn't shed any more tears.

"Misses her mum." he said, and ran a delicate finger over her brow. "I'll be right back."

He took the finger away, which made the baby grumble, outstretched her hands for him to come back. The all feared pirate made a low noise that sounded suspiciously like an endearing 'Naww', before stepping off onto his own ship.

Milah cried and cried, hugging her father's neck and screaming her displeasure for all of maybe, fifteen minutes?

Then Blackbeard was back, Belle was pale but otherwise okay, with rope burn on her wrists but fine, she was fine, how was the baby?

The baby was unceremoniously given to Blackbeard, who nursed her in one arm and let her chew on his finger while Killian went over his wife with hand and mouth and made sure she was still in one piece, safe. Belle was fine, a little dehydrated, but cringed all over when she saw the feared pirate's finger in her daughter's gums - she kissed his cheek as a thank you before turning all attentions on the baby, extracting her to take her away and feed her. When she came back, Milah was happily babbling, so she was given back to the pirate who let her scrunch her hands in his famous beard.

* * *

Belle had wanted to return to grounded land but the baby was already accustomed to the waves and life of a ship by the time Killian gave up his fight, nearly an enitre year later - Milah Rose was made for the sea.

Rose had the add-on room beside Killian's quarters, built in especially, only accessible through their room first.

Killian had thought the space would be good for her growth, since she was getting bigger and kicking harder, but he missed her. And yes, even now that they could continue on as adults do in the bedroom, he still kept an ear on his daughter.

He did occasionally worry that she didn't have children to play with, but Dunce seemed to contradict that thought, a lot of the time. The heavy set lad was fascinated by the baby, loved her to bits and pieces. He was the go-to nanny, the little girl's best friend. Will came in a close second - he more often than not used the babe to pick up ladies whenever they were around, but he still took care of her, which was appreciated by the parents.

Laurence, of course, was Belle's first choice, but he scared Milah, and Milah hated being scared more than dresses. He tried to quiet his voice but that wasn't what frightened her - she didn't know what it was, everything about him made her run for papa.

Who would of course, drop whatever he was doing, kiss her head, take hold of her hand, and then continue his tasks with the girl clutching his leg.

* * *

They were dressing after they actually got through bathing - and biting - Belle was struggling with the ties on the back of her dress, trying to do them while looking in the mirror, over her shoulder.

"You can't keep letting her do things like that, flying around on the ropes." she was saying. "She's going to get hurt, one day, and you'll be devastated, because it'll be your fault."

"I don't see why not, when it was one of the first things you learned to do on my ship."

"That was different. It's not exactly a skill she'll need on land, is it?" she chewed her lip, trying in earnest to make her lacings go together. "Do you know what your daughter told me, the other day?"

"Uh oh. She's only my daughter when it's bad news."

"Which reminds me - I put her to bed, Killian, and pulled out a book to read to her, and she said: 'Mama. Reading is a _useless pursuit_. All I need to do is learn maps and maths to navigate the sea.' Now, do you want to tell me where that came from?"

He was privately, very, very proud. Milah was his daughter, all right. She only mimicked Belle when she wanted something. But as it was, he put on his most concerned father-face, and nodded.

"A travesty indeed. I'll talk to her."

_Tell her she's a bloody precious gem._

"As for the rope swinging saga, love - no harm will come to her." he mused, pulling on a boot. "You know Will is capable, and he loves our lass. He's not going to do anything stupid with her in the air, darling. He's not suicidal."

"No, but because she is _your _daughter - she has all your confidence, but with none of the skill behind it." she huffed, giving up on the laces, going to stand before him for his help. "She'll think she's invincible and she'll end up trying to do it herself."

He tried to do the laces, but they wouldn't go. He blinked, not exactly sure how to mention her growing size in a delicate way... He cracked a grin. How long had it been now?

"And that's the problem, Killian, she's your daughter-"

"Love," he said carefully, as though she were a easily startled doe. "I think we might be having another problem."

Belle stopped, frowned, and turned.

"Pregnant? Don't be silly, I'm not-..." she thought back to Rose. He'd known before her body had even started the signs. He just put his hand on her belly, and kissed her shoulder as he stood. "You think so?"

"You're going to have to wear another dress," he said, pressing another kiss on her throat. "And yes, I think so. Unless you've been sneaking pastries on my ship."

She whacked him.

* * *

They arrived as the sun went down. Rose had nearly run all the way up to the castle, doubling back and skipping in her excitement, more often than not falling over feet, accustomed to a bucking floor and balancing out her stance against waves. Chase would take the ship, he'd talked it over with them all and they'd all agreed on making him momentary captain while they went off to ground Milah, a little.

By the time they'd arrived, she was dead asleep on his arm, drooling on his shoulder.

Killian had bowed as best he could at the royals but didn't bother straining too hard, holding Rose's head to his shoulder. He seized up her prince of a husband - something he had been warned not to do, but did any way - raising a slow brow at the formalities he and Belle were exchanging, before making a gruff noise and dropping a kiss on Snow's cheek.

"Evenin', Snow."

She beamed, patted his arm in replacement of a hug she couldn't otherwise give him.

"Hello, Hook. Look how big she is! She wasn't so tall last time I saw her. It's only been what, four, five months?" she peered at the little girl's sleeping face, braided hair, unruly mess of tangles it was on her head. She scowled in her sleep. "Oh, my, she looks just like you."

"Lucky, isn't she?" he grinned.

"She's beautiful." the royal agreed, and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'll show you where you're sleeping."

They were lead along corridors and shown where their own room was, in the event they needed anything. Charming opened the door while Belle went to the little bed set up at the foot of theirs and pulled back the covers, allowing him to lay the little girl down.

Except she didn't want to let go of him.

"It's alright, darlin', you're alright."

"Are we at the castle?" She scrubbed her face, blinking sleepily.

"Uh huh." he smoothed his hand over her tightly gripping fist. "It's time for bed, baby."

"I dun wanna. I wanna stay with you."

Snow sunk against her husband. Belle knelt beside the bed.

"Rose." she said gently. "You'll get to meet the royals tomorrow, and you're going to be grumpy if you don't go to sleep now."

"I won't be grumpy." but she sounded it. Her eyes were still mostly closed - she rubbed her face against Killian's shirt. "I won't."

He kissed her head, humming his agreement, rocked her slightly. She yawned and settled, but still protested.

"I'm not sleepy, I wanna go see the castle."

"Alright, lass. Just give me a minute to catch my breath." he was no where near out of shape or breathless in any way, but she agreed. He mouthed at Belle: "Twenty seconds."

And within the minute, she was back to sleep. He lowered her down to the bed, carefully unwinding her fingers from his shirt. Belle got her shoes, pulled the covers up over her daughter, pressing a tender kiss on each of her cheeks.

The royals lead them, then, to a lounge chamber, where Killian proceeded to yank his wife onto his knee, kissing her on the mouth before steering her around to face the prince and princess, who had politely averted their eyes from the show of affection. Belle thought about protesting sitting on his lap, but dashed the notion abruptly, leaning into him instead.

"Marriage suits the both of you." Belle said with a tired smile.

"Thank you." the princess beamed, looking content and glowing with newly wed bliss. "Have you been in contact with Jasmine, lately?"

"Not after her son was born." Belle was ashamed by how easy it was to let go of her friends, which had been part of the reason they'd docked here. "The third son. Aladin was very proud, stayed a few days before on the Roger with the twins. Rose nearly tossed them both over board-" she directed a look at Killian, who didn't look the slightest bit phased.

"-She isn't used to sharing with other children."

"She doesn't have a need of it. We don't see many kids on the Roger."

"It's a clean ship, but it's full of men, all the same." Belle smiled, tipped her head at Snow. "But I'm glad you got in contact with us. She needs more exposure to the land, and the _rules_ in it."

Killian rolled his eyes. "Or she could stay on the ship where my rules are _law_."

Charming quirked a smile at the sound of the heavily rehashed conversation, and reached over to take Snow's hand. They hadn't had time, in their recent wedding, to have any such arguments. And he was grateful.

"But you were saying of Jasmine?" Belle looked up to their company.

"Well, there was a reason she wasn't at our wedding. She couldn't get a bird to you, so she asked me to tell."

"She's pregnant again, and traveling makes her nauseous." Killian supplied. "She thinks Aladin doesn't know. Of course he knows. We all know, we just let you think we don't know so you can squirm about telling us. All husbands are cut of the same cloth."

"I'd beg to differ." Belle rose a brow, motioned at Charming. "You were never like this with me."

He shrugged.

"When Snow's pregnant he'll be the first to put it together, mark my words." he patted her bum. "Which reminds me. Is there something you'd like to share, with your friend, here, darling? Something we figured out, as of this afternoon?"

Killian's one hand found hers on her stomach and linked fingers - his hook remained on the arm of the chair.

"You're pregnant!" Snow gasped, cracking a grin like a beam of sunlight. She grabbed Charming's hand with both of hers. "We're pregnant too!"

"How far along?"

"Killian!"

"What? I've a right to know, if you two remain friends and our children are going to be forced to live together."

"Don't be over dramatic, we aren't going to live together." Belle said, and glanced at how Snow bit her lip. Charming averted his eyes to the ceiling, but a small smile carved on his mouth, widening as she whipped her head around and smacked Killian's shoulder. "What am I missing? What did you do?"

"You said the kids needed ground." he reminded her. "In fact, you've been going on and on about it for the last two years, seemed to be getting worse with the conception of the second babe." he patted her stomach.

"So I offered a place here..." Snow said slowly, with a steadily widening smile. "As long as you like."


	34. Chapter 34

He'd curled up behind her, hand on her stomach, thumb stroking.

"I think," he kissed her shoulder. "If we have a girl," he dragged the kiss up the back of her neck. "We should keep the theme of flowers." he lazily ran his cheek over her throat, nosing her earlobe, giving her another slow kiss. "I like Lily, for a name."

"Stop it, Killian." she murmured in return, turning her face into the pillow. "Just- Just go to sleep, sweetheart." she reached for his hand and pulled it up to her chest, curling her hand around his on her breast. She prayed it'd be a distraction enough for him to stop all the romantic talk of naming the baby that might be in her belly, but she had the distinct impression it wouldn't be enough, especially since Rose was asleep at the end of their bed.

"Stop what?" he got up on his elbow. "What am I doing?"

"Naming the baby." she looked at him through mostly closed lashes. "Stop it."

"No. I will not stop. You can't start this bullshit again." he retorted with enough defiance - but he glanced to Rose's cot just to make sure she was safe and soundly asleep. "I'm not going to let you, not this time."

"What?" she pulled away, lifting onto her own elbow. "What am I doing?"

"Cutting me off from the baby." he said flatly. "Not this time, Belle. You did well enough with Rose."

"Rose was different. There was a lot going on, when I was pregnant with her. We're... different, now." she dropped her voice to a quieter pitch. "Besides, we aren't in any safe zones. I'm absent just two months bleeding, Killian, that could be anything."

"You know I know different. And you should too."

"I could still lose it." she said quietly, and her eyes dropped. She lay back down, her arm coming across her waist. "I could still... We can't be sure."

"I'm sure, love." he reached across to pull her head to him, to kiss that frightened look away from her, but she caught his hand and put it down between them, her stare was haunted. She was still scared, still so sure that she would lose another baby. "Listen to me, darling, it is different now. You know how to have a baby, now. We've had enough of a drama that we can face down anything, love. We've a princess who loves us and has access to the best medical care this side of the kingdom-"

"It isn't born yet." she said tightly.

"But it will be."

She turned away from him.

"We aren't in a safe zone."

"Your damn crocodile promised you safety, so if you trust him so bloody much-" he was promptly cut off, by his daughter climbing up onto the end of their bed. She didn't say anything - anything they understood - but she just wiggled in between them, mumbling something as she tucked under her mother's chin and hid her face in her chest.

They had so much more to say to each other, but he couldn't hold the conversation over his daughter. He just sighed, and rolled out, fully aware that even if Belle hadn't kicked him out of the bed, he was well and truly banished.

* * *

"I see you've been banished." Charming rubbed the back of his neck, looking sleepy. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything." the prince didn't need to know. "She's pregnant. Everything I do is wrong. You just wait until yours kicks in, much as I adore her, Snow'll be about as pleasant as a fistful of angry cats."

The prince chuckled, wandered off for a bit, left him to scowl at the lowly burning fireplace. Killian was sinking into a feral mood in his armchair when he was presented with a cup of warm cocco and cinnamon, smelling sweeter than honey. He raised brows at the prince, who had a mug of his own and tired bags under his eyes.

"I didn't know royalty made their own coco."

"I'll drink yours if you don't want it." he circled the cup, making the smell waft.

"Maybe you're useful for something after all." was his thanks, as he accepted the beverage. "Any rum in it?"

"No. We're-..." he cleared his throat. "All out of rum."

"Uh huh." he sipped the cocco, which was _nice_, at worst, not what his tongue wanted. "Why're you down here, anyway?"

The prince was quiet for a while, nursing the cup against his chest as he sat in the arm chair beside him and looked world weary as a man in his twenties could. He wetted his lips, opened them to speak, then closed his mouth again, unsure, knee bopping.

"Well?"

"Snow was having nightmares." he said finally, and looked at his drink. "I usually light a candle for her and soothe her until she falls asleep, but not this time." his lips quirked.

"I wouldn't say a fistful of angry cats, more just a single, very annoyed one."

"Really?" he sipped the cocco, which was honestly more sugar than milk. "Already?"

"Mm." The prince was just looking at the drink. "She- She'd had a dream that she was Belle."

"My Belle, I assume?" the pirate scoffed. "Hardly a nightmare."

The prince looked sheepish.

"We'd... just lost our first baby and she knew she was going to lose another one." That hit him like a sack of bricks around the face. "There was nothing she could do about it. She knew it was going to happen and no one understood why she was mourning two, not one."

"Right." Nightmare, indeed.

"She isn't usually so easily scared but," he tipped his head. "This drama with the evil Queen, threatening our happiness and all. I never-... I never did thank you, for what you did at the wedding, did I?"

* * *

Belle didn't often miss her dresses, but when on land, she was hardly out of them. She looked absolutely stunning, in her pale blue gown, with curls pulled over one shoulder and lightly lined eyes. He had been distracted enough by her waist in her dress that he didn't look at the clothes she handed him, stealing a kiss enough that their daughter groaned loudly and went to hide in the crow's nest.

Rose didn't want to see the wedding.

"Papa, I don't want-" she galloped toward Killian when he stepped out of their room, struggling with fancy, frilly cuffs. She had a stubborn look on her face, in little cotton breeches and a black shirt, braids through her hair, wooden sword at her hip and a little mermaidian pearl hanging from one lobe. She only wanted one pierced, like her papa.

She stopped running for him though, and laughed outright at the high neckline he'd come out in.

"What?" he cocked a brow.

"You look _ridiculous_!" she snorted, and skipped up to him, tugging his sleeve over the cradle of his hook. "Papa, you're not wearing that!"

"This is what they wear." he sighed, raising brows at her mother. "I've been told I'm to wear my prettiest garb. Weddings are formal events, and I'm not allowed to be a pirate there."

"But you are a pirate...?" she scowled at the neat dress pants, the long red cape sitting over his shoulders, flicking a golden button on his shirt. "You look like a pirate tryin' real hard not to be."

"Well, I am what I am. Take it up with your mother."

"Mama-"

"Don't you start, Milah Rose." she was very amused at the laughter her daughter kept desperately trying to hide. "He looks _good_. You're not used to clothes without holes in them, is the problem." she gave him enough of an appreciative look that he felt his ego expanding. The shirt was black, with thick ropes sewn across the chest, set by gold buttons. The neckline started at the dip in his collar bone, but the collar was starched enough that it stuck up around his ears, solid.

"Now," she went on. "Are you going to come and see Snow get married?"

"Not if I have to wear that." she jerked her thumb at her father, who looked at his shirt. "I'm not wearing a dress. I don't _like_ dresses. And that's-" she jerked the thumb again. "Stupid."

"Oi." he stepped behind her, looked upside down at her face. "I can hear you, you know."

"I know." she grinned, and turned around. "There's never any adventure at weddings, papa, and Dunce promised to play poker with me. I've been saving, not stealing, promise." she motioned to a small leather bag at her waist, mirrored of her father's.

"C'mon, Belle." he kissed his little girl on the top of her head. "Don't struggle with her, or we'll never get anywhere. Love you, cherub, I'll be back soon."

"Love you too, but be back _really_ soon, okay?"

Belle knelt to receive an armful of hugging girl, who retreated to her babysitter at a bolt. She never walked anywhere, everything had to be done as soon as physically possible.

So there they were, Belle was leaning into his arm, smiling on the scene. The wedding was beautiful, full of people in feathers and silk, who spotted the pirate and gave him blatant, confused stares, as though wondering how a peasant had ventured into the elite event. The royals were well and good in love - something the both of them recognized, admired from afar, wrapped into each other.

The Queen strolled in - Killian reflectively stood in front of Belle, which she allowed - the royals had their show down, Charming hefted his sword, making the Queen dissipate. Snow was shoved by an unseen force, thrown by magic, straight at the window behind the dias on which she had been getting married.

Killian hooked the drape beside the window, skipped up the wall and launched himself into the princess' trajectory, catching her around the waist with his good arm and smashing through the glass with his back. The hook caught, they bounced on the wall, his arm extended to it's fullest limit. Snow was hugged tightly to his chest, winded.

"Alright, love?" he asked, and she nodded, looking down at the dramatic drop. He groaned, winced, looked up at the window where ladies were still screaming, where no men had moved to aid them. "Psh, nobility. Honestly, the lot of you are -"

The hook began to tear the cloth they were relying on. They dropped fast, both shouting - a lasso dropped over the both of them, pulled tight. He slammed into the bricks again, gruffing his pain.

Belle tied off the rope and peered out over them.

"What was that about nobility, dear?"

* * *

"No, you never did thank me." he shrugged. "I don't care, though. She's lovely, your Snow. Wouldn't let harm befall her. My wife'd kill me."

The prince chuckled, looked up from his drink.

"Thank you, for saving her."

He cocked a half grin.

"Not regretting having pirates at your wedding now, are you?"

"I never regretted either of you." he said in a sincere, promising way. "I just ... didn't understand how you two were friends."

"I've got two women in my life, that's more than enough for me." he waited a beat, receiving the prince's surprised, mortified stare. "Yeah, the other woman in my life you'll meet soon. She's gorgeous, 'bout hip high with a face like a mischievous cherub." he watched that sink in, making the prince let out a small 'Oh.'

He rolled his eyes.

"Now, you've been thrown out of your chambers, you were saying she had nightmares. Go on, vent."

"It isn't my vision to tell." he winced slightly. "Snow has concerns. I can't understand them."

"How do you not understand her fear of losing a baby?" Killian shot him a dirty look. "They grow children inside of them, and you don't understand that fear?"

"No. That's not what I meant. It scares me too." the man was still calm, despite the challenge the pirate set him. "I don't understand why she thinks I'm going to let anything happen to her. I tried to tell her rest and calm is best for the baby but she wouldn't hear it."

"That's your first mistake." he sighed, settled back into the chair, taking a hot swig of cocco. "You don't tell them what's best for the baby. Ever. They know what's best, even when they don't. You'll never win if you tell them anything, you have to be subtle about it."

The prince blinked at him, rubbed the scar on his chin absent mindedly. Killian could sense a story there, but refrained from asking, while the royal took in his (rather well tested) advice.

"Subtle as in...?"

"Well for starters, suggest. But suggest infrequently, mind. If you see she's tired pick her up and carry her to a bed. Don't say anything, you won't need to."

"Carrying her to a bed is subtle?"

"Throwing a pillow at her face works too. Only that's more likely to provoke a fight, and if that's what you're trying to avoid..." he drawled, and cocked a brow at the laugh that came out of the prince's mouth. "Your woman is a fan of romance, no? Flowers, and things? You know the woman well, right, this wasn't an arranged thing, was it?"

"No. Thank the gods I didn't marry who I was arranged to." he looked uneasy, then sheepishly said: "I'm not often one to talk ill of people but... She was the kind of woman made out of angry cats, all the time, every day was an angry cat day."

"Well you know what to do with an angry kitty, don't you?" he waited a beat. "You _stroke _it."

The prince luckily caught the spat out cocco in his mug.

"I thought that was common knowledge?" Killian had to laugh at the expression on the prince's face. Nobility, they were all the same. They finished their cocco in - not a comfortable silence, because it wasn't comfortable at all, but it was bearable.

"Do you think you'll have a girl or a boy?" the pirate asked abruptly.

"I'd like a son." he confessed. "What about you?"

"I don't know." he rubbed his chin. "I do love my girls. But I'm already going grey at the thought of her courting. S' the first thing out of my mouth, when she was born. I didn't want her to be around boys."

The prince laughed, rubbed his tired eyes.

"I would love a daughter. Especially if she was like Snow. I-..." he opened his mouth to continue the thought, but caught it, whipped his head around and cracked a wide smile. "Come with me."

He got up, took the mug from his hand, and left it on a tray beside the door, presumably to be picked up by a maid later on. He lead the mostly inquisitive pirate down to his room, stopped him at the door. Killian listened as he went in, the low, murmured voices on the other side. He couldn't hear her, but he heard him.

"Snow, sweetheart. Where's the necklace? Which way means what?... I love you too, I'm sorry." he retreated back out to the pirate, held up a long loved necklace with a particular twinkling in his eyes. "This was my mother's. It'll tell you the gender of your baby."

"Belle's mentioned it." his eyes lit up at the shiny pendant.

"Snow already knows ours, but I've been forbidden from finding it out." he passed it into the pirate's hand. "Bring it back soon."

Killian rubbed the dial between his fingers, chewing on his lip as he went to the room. He opened the door quietly, checking on Milah, who was chewing the corner of his pillow. Belle was sound asleep, her hair a rat's nest on her head. She was starfished, face every inch as beautiful and porcelain as he'd ever known it to be.

Would she be mad?

_Well, she can't be mad if she doesn't know. _

He let the chain drop, and stared at it, the watching the way it swung...

He ran, sliding around corners, to slam open the door to Charming's chamber. He didn't even explain, he just grabbed a handful of his shirt and very nearly bounced.

"I'm having a son!"

* * *

When the son was born, he was beautiful and wailing and Killian couldn't stop crying. He'd tried, desperately, but he couldn't. While he and Rose paced outside, listening to their much beloved Belle screaming and straining, he couldn't keep his tears inside. A son. A _son._

"It's okay, papa." Rose hid her face against his hip, little body trembling. "Mama's gonna be okay, Laurie promised you she would."

"I know that, sweetheart." he wiped his face, knelt to receive a hug that nearly knocked him clear on his back. "You're mother's going to be just fine, my girl."

"Then why're you crying?" she punched his shirt. "You're scarin' me!"

"I'm sorry." he kissed her cheeks, rubbed his sleeve over her tears. "I'm just happy, love."

He could understand how confusing it would be for a full grown man to be crying because he was so happy. Rose wasn't a silly girl, she wasn't convinced, and punched him in the shirt again to voice this.

An hour and a half more of cuddling on the seat outside, and they were invited into the room. He stood, keeping his daughter on his side, both arms wound tight around her.

"Look, Rose." He hugged her tighter. "Your little brother."

"How did you-?..." Belle narrowed her eyes playfully. "Snow's necklace?"

"How else?" he let his daughter onto the end of her bed, strolled over and wiped his tears again. "He's bloody gorgeous, love. Hello, son." he bent and kissed his head, making him grumble and stir.

"Your beard, Killian."

"Rose never complains about my beard."

"I like the beard." the little girl announced, carefully climbing over to peer down at the baby. "He's not even gorgeous, papa, he's wrinkly." she scrunched up her nose.

"You were wrinkly when you were born." he hugged the little girl because Belle hadn't yet offered him his son. "You were smaller, though." she returned the hug, still curious about this little baby who was to be her brother.

"Names?" the mother mused, smiling up at him.

"Neal." he wiped his face again.

"Neal." Belle tasted the name on her tongue. "I've got a Milah and a Neal. Yes."


	35. Chapter 35

THE END IS HERE.

Aude

xx

* * *

Rose was nine to their collective six years old, and they'd just run away from the nanny hired to keep an eye on them, wooden swords in hand.

The little blonde princess was ahead by a footlength, only because Rose had told Neal they had to run slow to make Emma feel better. The nanny had high skill sets and was a full fledged knight- but he refused to treat Emma as Emma wanted to be treated, and he didn't let any one of importance know, but he didn't like the pirate born children.

Neal rarely picked up on such meanness because of his young age, he was just easily intimidated by the big man and tried to avoid him as much as he could - which is exactly what the knight-nanny wanted, of course. But Rose was not her brother. She was always keen to annoy the big knight, always staring him down, chin up, eyes narrowed at his challenges.

Neal had wanted to share in his bounty (a pout and a pair of watery eyes and Snow gave him all the hard boiled lollies his little hands could carry,) he had halved them down the middle, nice and fair, before going to share with the princess. The knight, when no one was looking, had knocked the lollies out of his hands, causing him to tear up, to stutter. Rose had just so happened to hear her brother in distress - naturally she distracted the knight by attacking him with her sword - subtle - while Neal coerced and stole the princess away.

Emma stopped running abruptly, Neal skidding, Rose nearly plowed into them both. She went to ask what had happened but stopped, mouth popping open in shock. She put a hand over Emma's mouth before she could make a noise.

"Go get papa," Rose whispered to her brother. "It's you-know-who."

"Who is he?" Emma straightened from under the hand to peer at him more closely. "Why is he shiny?"

The little girl gave her a particularly serious look.

"He's trouble. You get your dad too."

"You're not the boss of me, _Milah_." Neal snorted.

"I am so. Papa says so all the time." he had never said anything of the sort, of course, not specifically, any way. "I'm the oldest. Now run."

Neal didn't want to leave his sister, but he wouldn't leave Emma. His sister was older, she was fine, Emma was a princess. He took her hand and started running with a worried glance back.

Rose crept forward, careful of where she stepped. The imp had his back to her, humming some song under his breath. She lifted the sword and swung at his knee caps for all she was worth, but instead of making contact and jarring her arms like she expected, he disappeared, making her spin around and fall over her own feet. Her rear bounced off the ground, she let out a loud 'ow!' on impact.

The imp just giggled behind a scaly hand, cocking his head.

"Rude of you," he trilled, and waved his hand about.

"You're trespassing!" she pointed the sword at him. "My papa's going to kill you!"

"Your papa can try." he waved his hands around. "I'm a little hard to kill."

"I know that!" she snapped, and got to her feet, both hands around the hilt of the sword. "What're you doing here?"

"Nothing!"

"Then why is the boundary line glowing?" she jabbed the sword at him, making him dance to the side. "I'm not stupid, you know, what are you doing?!"

"You're quite the spirited little thing, aren't you?" he mused. "Suppose I mean the family here no harm?"

"You're a liar!" she swung the sword at him again, but he just caught it, and lifted it out of her hands. She gaped, mortified, then scowled, launched with a grunt, and grabbed the handle, swinging from it like a pendulum. "Let go!"

"ROSE!" Killian nearly dropped his sword. "You let my daughter down!"

"Your daughter?" Rumplestiltskin turned to see Charming with his own sword, Snow with her bow, but no Belle, the kids were gone. "Hm. That would explain a lot."

Rose lifted both feet and kicked him in the side. He just giggled, and dropped the sword. She hit the ground again, and Killian jolted, as if to go and pick her up.

"Rose-" he choked on it, darted his eyes between the imp and the child. "Come to me."

"Yes, dearie, run to your papa."

"I'm not afraid of you!" she scowled up at the magician.

"Rose, please." If ever he had hated how much she was his daughter, now would be the time.

"No!" she pointed the sword at him. "He-"

"Rose." he said it lowly. "Baby, sweetheart, we can beat him up later."

"I'd think not." Belle as leaning heavily on a trunk to steady her shaking knees, Neal behind her skirt, Emma behind Neal. "Would you two stop being so abrasive, just for once? Milah, go to your father, please. Hello, Rum."

"Belle." he nodded to her, his face softening.

"What're you up to today?"

"I was warding the grounds. Your protections do not include magic." he giggled, motioned to the little girl, who was wearing the exact same face as her father - winded, angry, confused. "Pretty girl, your little _Milah_."

"I wonder if I'll be so pretty when I shove this sword up your-"

"Milah Rose!" Belle rubbed her head. "Please go to your father, preferably before he has a conniption."

"But -"

"Now." she fixed her with a stare that would melt paint. The little girl retrieved her scowl, stomped over to Killian, who wrapped his hook around her and pulled her tight to his chest, sword still pointed at Rumplestiltskin.

"You're warding the grounds." Belle continued casually. "Is there any reason for that?"

"I'm a courteous fellow." he mused, baring teeth in a hideous smile.

"You're an ugly fellow." Rose shot out from behind Killian's arm.

_"Rose."_

"Does ugly equal rude?"

"You do!" she inflated dramatically, hands clenching on her sword. "You tried to kill my father!"

"He started it."

"I don't care, you're wrong to even try!"

"Snow-" Killian more or less shoved Rose behind him. "-take the kids."

"I'm not going." Rose declared, and held onto his forearm, her own sword lifted. "Papa, you can't make me. Don't make me. I can help."

"Rumple." Belle went on. "Is there any reason that you're warding the grounds?"

He tilted his head, twirled his finger around to point at her.

"Always sharp, weren't you, dearie?"

Emma leaned too far to the side to see him, stumbled out into his line of sight. Snow pulled the bow back further, trained it on the imp's eyeball. Neal put his arms around her and pulled her back, staring blankly at the magician with cocked eyebrows, an unimpressed frown on his mouth.

"And the boy, he must be yours, too, I see. None of your children seem to be scared of me." he pouted comically. "I must try harder."

"Rum." she motioned to the glowing boundary line.

"Ah, yes! Yes, yes, well. The Queen, you know how she is, trying to ruin everyone's happiness. After the deal fell through with the curse to lift us all away to that other land, you know the one, she's been trying to find some thing to keep her mind occupied..." he motioned at Snow. "I was just- preventing, unhappiness of the lady of the castle, of course."

"That was kind." she raised her eyebrows. "I didn't know you were fond of Snow."

He winced, then hid a maniacal giggle behind two hands.

"I've always loved snow, dearie!"

There was a shocked beat.

"Cold, crunchy, white, bright snow!" and he cackled, before wiggling his fingers at both Killian and Milah. "See you 'round!"

"I bloody hope not." the girl muttered.

Killian dropped his sword and went to his knee.

"Milah Rose, don't ever do that to me again." he said lowly, before pulling her to his chest. "Sweetheart, promise me. You promise me you'll_ listen._ You don't know what that- that- _thing_, can do to you. You listen to me, when he's around, love, you can't let him goad you into a fight. I know he's easy to hate, darling. I know he is. I know you're protective of me, Milah, but you can't- You just can't."

"I was trying to help." she said, leaning back to see him to see her face.

"Promise me you will listen." he didn't blink, just ran his fingers over her unruly hair, tucking it behind her ears. "You have to _obey_ me, when he's around. Promise."

"I promise, papa." she said solemnly, then suddenly looked much more like her mother than before. "If you want me to be safe, you should get me a sword. A real one. That can cut things."

"So you can slice up your brother?" Charming peered down at her, sheathing his weapon. "I don't know about that."

She scowled at him, but it was only half hearted.

"I'll think about it." Killian kissed her head on the way up, motioning for his son to come over. Emma went too, hugging his hip, chin set on his leg.

"It's alright, Captain." He patted hair away from her face.

"Yeah, papa." Neal didn't hug him, he hugged Emma, who giggled and gave him a rosy tinted smile. "Me 'n' Emma ran quick as we could to get you. We did the right thing, right?"

_I'm better than Milah, right?_

"You did a good thing, son."

"Oi." Milah grouched, folding her arms across her chest. "He ran off. I stood my ground."

"And you could've been in trouble." Snow mentioned, shaking her head. "That's never okay, Milah, honey. You have to put your safety first, not your pride."

"Uh huh." she just nodded, but her eyes glazed, she wasn't listening. "So papa, my sword?"

"I'm still thinking. I'm leaning toward yes. Though just judging by how pale your mother has just gone, perhaps that battle is best kept for later." he scooped up Neal onto his back - Emma went to be checked over by Charming and Snow. Belle was staring at the dimly glowing line, her head cocked, brows furrowed slightly. "Belle, love, are you coming?"

"Hmm?" she glanced his way, unfocused, and nodded, but returned to staring at the line. "Yes. Yes, I am."

"How come Milah gets a sword?"

"Because I'm older, duh."

"I want a sword, papa, I'm the man of the family."

"I don't know about that." he drawled.

"Father, may I-?" but Emma was cut off by Snow.

"No," Snow was quick to dismiss it, before her husband got any ideas, or Emma got her heart set on it. "You certainly may not. You are a lady. Have a bow, they're safer."

"But I want a sword. Milah gets a sword, I want one too!"

"Milah might be getting a sword, but Milah is nearly ten years old, and is a pirate. You are a lady."

"I don't wanna be a lady any more." the little blonde huffed, and folded her arms.

"It's okay, Em," Neal said cheerfully, smiling brightly down from his safe perch on his father's back. "If I get one, I'll share it with you. Promise."

Belle turned, seeing her husband watching her study the line, his eyes slightly narrowed, mouth pinched. She smiled, shook her head, and kissed his chin before taking her daughter by the hand.

"Now the question really is, why weren't any of you with the nanny while we tried to have some grown up time?"

"Milah did it!"

"Shut up, traitor!"

* * *

It so happened that the Queen snuck past whatever spell Rumplestiltskin had laid out to protect them, and wormed her way into the castle in a feeble old woman disguise. She went not with apples, but with blue ribbons, one especially selected for her royal highness to try on. Only Snow didn't find the elderly woman, Emma did, and she took the satin rope to her make-shift aunt, to try and at least coax Milah out of her grounding on her birthday.

Belle was nearly at full term when the ribbon touched her head, and sent her spiraling, unconscious and unable to stay awake for long periods of time. She couldn't eat, couldn't drink, barely breathe, so the baby was more likely than not going to suffer, and the knowledge of that ruined her when she was awake.

It was Neal who took the initiative, who read the lore and who called the imp in the field he'd first known him to be. He waited, fidgeting, until the man strolled around to face him, amused but confused at his requested presence.

"I need your help." the boy said with a badly hidden gulp.

"Your father won't like that." he purred, and put hands on his knees, crouching with his elbows sticking out like chicken wings. "Pray, what is it you need, little boy?"

"My mother is ill." he said bravely, but started to tear up. He tried to scrub away the fear but there was only so much room in a six year old that could hold such a large amount of angst, and it spilled over in the form of tears. "She's sick, 'n' no one can fix her, she's gonna lose the baby and she's really upset, papa can't even get her to smile, she won't eat, she just sleeps, she's throws up all day and - and- n-no one can f-fix it!"

"Hush, hush." he held out his hand. "That's all I need to hear. I'll fix it."

"Pr-romise?"

"I swear." he lifted the other hand into the air with a giggle.

Neal stuck out his hand and waited until the magician shook it, before he was abruptly in Belle's room. Killian was holding her hand up to his mouth, and barely registered when the man swaggered to the other side of the bed.

"Pirate."

Killian just looked at him, blank.

"Your son called me." he glanced at Neal, who had retreated into himself, fearing his father's wrath. Killian had none to give, he just lifted his arm and let the boy crash into his side, shivering, hiding his face under his hands. "What took you so long to get me involved, I wonder?"

The Captain didn't answer, he just looked at Belle, who was grey, her hair a messy knot on her head. Her free hand was clasping the sheet, the other squeezing his fingers. There was a ring of damp cloth around her from how fervently and profusely she sweated, and her breath sounded pitched, wheezed.

"I did put an effort into saving every baby from her womb, you know." the imp went on. "It'll be hungry, not dead, when it's born."

Killian continued to say nothing, resting his head on Neal's skull.

"Do you know what it is?" the magician said lowly. "Do you know who caused this?"

The pirate shook his head.

"I think... it's the Queen." Neal offered up in a guilty squeak.

Rumplestiltskin started, he glanced at the boy in a mild glare - but it was glare enough that the boy hid his face against his father's shirt and buried into him, as if to shut it out. Killian put his wife's hand down and tilted his son's face upward with careful fingers, hushing him in a low gravel as he did so. No words, just noise, to soothe the boy who tried to fight the direction, tried to hide away. He gave him the world's smallest smile as encouragement, and squeezed his hooked arm around his shoulders.

"Tell me what you know, child." Rumplestiltskin said, and put both hands on Belle's bedside, leaning forward.

Neal still waited for his father's wordless permission, his nod, the affirming kiss on the brow.

"Em-ma thinks it's her f-fault... But don't be mad! Please don't be mad, she made me promise not to tell!" he stared at his father with wide, watering eyes. "She was- playing, in the garden, and th-there was an old woman, and she was al-lone, and had this, basket, full of stuff- she said it was for Snow, for the Queen, but she didn't say who from and Em- she just thought that she'd give something to mama, because she was in a- a mood." he gulped, leaned into his papa, who tightened his grip, raised haunted eyes to Rumplestiltskin.

"Indeed." he murmured, and looked at the lost love. "That may be... Exactly right. Do you know what our princess gave your mother, dearie?"

The boy shook his head.

"Is Emma in trouble?"

Killian shook his head.

"Hm. I see. Give me a moment."

Rumplestiltskin went over the sorry scene - the way the father held onto his boy, returning his fingers to cling tightly to his wife's flexing hand. It was sad, but not something he hadn't seen before, in all his dealings. He cocked his head, lifted a shiny fingertip to her brow, wiping away a strand of hair stuck to her forehead. His finger came back steaming - he frowned at it, rubbing the sweat between his fingers.

"That's magic." he mumbled, and traced the wet line up her skull, to where a ribbon had held back her hair. He tugged the bow loose, and watched as Belle inhaled back into life - she colored, but did not wake. Both son and father straightened, watching intently, the same look of hopeful awe on each face. "So it will take magic..."

His hand glowed, and he applied it first to her brow, then her sternum, then her belly.

Belle gasped, her eyes flew open, she took several long, deep pulls of air. Killian was about to rejoice when she held her stomach, and let out a very loud yell, rolling onto her side, away from her family so she could try and hide her pain into the mattress.

"CROCODILE!" the bellow made his son flinch hands up over his ears. "WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

"Oh, gods, oh _gods_-!" she puffed, squeezing her eyes. "I'm alright - the baby - the baby, Killian, it's just - close -"

"Clearly never seen a woman in labor before." Rumplestiltskin noted dryly, wrinkling his nose.

"It's happening?" Killian was properly mortified, reached out to squeeze her arm. "Belle, love, tell me you're alright?"

"I'm-" but she cut herself off in another loud shout, tossing onto her back, pushing up into sitting. "Neal, baby, what're you doing here?" she puffed at him with a twitchy smile.

"Mama, are you okay?" Neal hid back under his father's arm as the mother screamed in agony.

"I'll get a healer -"

"A healer." Rum scoffed, and his twirling hands glowed. "Puh-lease."

He clicked his fingers, sending Neal and his father outside, the door swinging shut and clicking locked behind them. It didn't take long, considering he reached through her stomach to pull the baby out, instantly fed him, before unlocking the door to let the bellowing pirate through.

"SSHHH." he hissed through a grin. "Baby is sleeping!"

This one's gender had been a surprise. Belle and Killian both had decided not to take advantage of Snow's necklace and just let them guess the gender - though Milah had been desperate to know and Killian had recently tried to barter with the princess to have a quick peek. Neal and Emma had, at one point, conspired together and managed to steal it, but they were quickly caught when they flew into Belle's room with it hanging between each victorious fist.

"I like Godric for a name." Rumplestilskin said. "And seeing as I saved this baby, I definitely think I should name him."

Belle just smiled, exhausted, while the entirety of her family and friends looked on with nothing good in their eyes.

"I love it, Rum." she said softly, and kissed the baby's head. "Godric is a beautiful name."

"For a beautiful baby." he gigled softly, reached out and touched his head with a gentle fingertip. "I love new baby smell."

"He's gonna eat my brother!" Rose launched, Killian just managed to hook her shirt and yank her back, pulling her up onto his hip. "Pa_pa_-!"

"He's not going to eat him." he said sourly, and glared some more at the imp. "Are you leaving soon?"

"I'll leave soon, yes." he giggled, picked up the baby, holding him like a professional. Killian still had trouble holding the babies - he hadn't even gotten a chance to hold his own son yet, and he glowered, hate and grudging gratitude seething in his chest. He turned his attention to Milah, who was glaring hotly at the pirate, and pulled her up onto his knee. She was getting too tall for him, beginning to struggle to be so close, but she would always be closest to him no matter what. She leaned back into his chest, scowl easing slightly.

Neal was busy being guilty at having first called the imp, then tattling on Emma, who was hiding her wounded form behind Snow's dress. The princess was gracious, as usual, combing gentle fingers through her daughter's hair and smiling at the new baby from her corner. Charming had of course, noticed his daughter's shyness and the strange space between the two best friends, but made no comment. He just kept a hand on his sword, for Killian's sake.

When Rumplestiltskin finally left, Belle looked over to her husband, her eyelids heavy and mouth lazily smiling. He and Rose went to her side, while Neal hung back, peering at his brother through their gait.

"I came back." she told him warmly.

"I wasn't so sure you would." he returned quietly, and bent to press a kiss on her mouth.

"I always come back to you." she scolded him lightly.

"Thought I might have to drag you back, this time." but the joke fell short - he'd been minutes away from calling the imp himself. If it weren't for his damnable pride, the absolute hate he had for the man, summoning him would've been the very first thing he had done when Belle fell sick.

"Another son." she said, and leaned her forehead to his cheek. "Privately, husband, I'm glad he's a boy."

"So'm I, love." he looked down at the little bundle, the chubby face of his littlest son. Godric, he remembered, and touched his nose to the baby's head, in fond greeting. "Hello, son."

"Are you smelling him too?" Rose climbed up on the bed, scrunched up her face. "I don't understand the baby smell thing. All brothers smell gross."

"Hey." Neal glared out from behind Killian's leg. "That's not true!"

"Have you smelt the baby yet?" she wanted to know. "Exactly."

* * *

When it was just the both of them, Killian and Belle and baby Godric, he went over her face, arms, shoulders, with worshipping kisses. She was mostly asleep, but allowed him to do so, steering clear of her chest - it hurt too much for him to apply his beard to that particular area. He drew a hot trail of kisses over the pulse in her throat, pausing to suck a mark there, mark enough to have her swat at him for doing so. He kisses her mouth in apology, and hugged her tight when he was done.

"I'm alright." she whispered against his chest.

"I'm not." he returned, and rubbed her shoulder blades.

"I love you."

"I love you too, love."

"But you _still_ have a problem with Rum."

He didn't let her go.

"He held my son before I did. He named him. And you allowed it."

"He saved Godric's life. And he saved mine. I was hardly lucid enough to deny him."

"Liar." he said softly, and moved to swallow up whatever protests she made. "I don't care. I just want you and our babies to be okay. To be safe. That's all I want."

"You're easily pleased, from the pirate I used to know."

"He's still in here, darling. And he still wants to make that bastard crocodile bleed just as much as he ever did." he promised her lowly. "The one thing that stopped me was Milah on my knee and Neal fretting by your side. That was all that stopped me, our kids. They hold a great deal of power over me, you know."

"I know." she stroked his face with weak fingers. "I know, sweetheart."

"If that man ever comes near them again... I won't be stopped. Not even you will be able to temper me. You know that, too?"

"I'd imagine that's how Milah Rose thinks when she sees him around you." she returned gently, and ran her nails over his beard. "I love you, Killian. But you're still a stubborn arse, and I'm going to hit you if you don't get that pout off your face."

"And there's the woman I married." he murmured, and kissed her fingertips.


	36. Chapter 36

Milah Rose Jones.

Petulant and stubborn, she was all the worst parts of both of them. Attractive and well aware of it; able to lie and steal with the innocence of an angel; with a temper like a bubbling volcano, and pride always hearing challenges when there were none. She craved adventure and she wanted travel, and being a child of a noble didn't seem to have any dampening effect on the pirate blood that ran in her veins. She'd already run away once, hidden on the Jolly Roger dressed as a boy, missing nearly a month until she came to blows with some of the newer men on Dunce and Peggy's behalf - Laurence found her out by treating her wounds. Chase had detained her in the cabin until Killian got there, where he casually picked her up, took her home, and let Belle do all the disciplining.

She had been twelve years old.

Said girl was currently low on her belly, sneaking up on her father from the side. She smiled sweetly when her father saw her coming - the very spitting image of Belle's own face, only when she was pretending to be nice - and twisted his hook off his wrist with a victorious chortle.

Fourteen years old. And she chortled. The pirate was very proud, when he wasn't so annoyed.

"Your daughter stole my hook!"

"Well go and get it back then."

Neal was like Rose, but watered down, tameable with bribes and tired easily. He and Emma could hardly be thought of without being together - were best friends and always had been, having been born only fourteen days apart - Snow often fantasized their wedding, and while Emma and Neal had cringed from the idea initially, Neal had mentioned he wanted blue flowers and silver ribbons and Emma had agreed, as long as she was allowed to have a sword on her hip. He loved her dearly, more than a friend, less than a sister, and the princess returned those affections equally.

There would never be another to come between them.

"C"mon, lad," Killian waved him over. "We've a treasure to recover."

Neal rose instantly, a grin winding on his face. At eleven years old he was thinning out, growing taller already, set to challenge the father for height he had yet to gain.

"I'll cut her off at the left." he promised.

"Right, son."

They took off at opposite directions. They wouldn't catch her. They never did.

Their five year old, Godric, was sitting by Belle, chewing sourly on an apple, his face blotched with the remainder of his tears and tantrum as she read to him. He was in trouble for stealing candy from the kitchens. Again. Neal had been trying to teach him how to get away with it, but Godric had all the flamboyance and flair of his somewhat adoptive father, and the subtlety of a thunderclap. Whenever he did something naughty he laughed loud and long, announcing it to whomever should hear. Belle didn't mind - out of her three babies, Godric was the most affectionate creature she'd given birth to. He was tucked into her side, moping over his fruit, scowling after his papa.

Killian had made him sit out, not because he was a persistent thief, but because he was_ caught_ thieving.

Pirate logic. Belle just couldn't wean him from it.

She knew as soon as Godric straightened - he always picked up on the scent before she could sort through the signs. She closed her book, set it on the seat beside her, lifted her face to the side.

"Hello, Rum." Belle said, quite pleasantly.

"Hello, Belle. What are you scowling at, dearie?" he directed to Godric, who held up his apple.

Belle explained shortly what had happened to land him there.

"Well, this will certainly not do. Can't have such a sweet face looking so... rotten." the imp said, and clicked his fingers. The apple turned into a ball of toffee - the boy nearly squealed. He pounced on the man's leg with a big, sticky grin, and said: "Thanks uncle Rumble!"

"Of course, I'm your favourite uncle." he said with a high pitched giggle, patting the boy's head. He turned his attention back to Belle. "How fares the lady?"

"She fares well. How's Bae?"

"Fretting over his marriage." he sighed, rolled his oddly coloured eyes, skipping over the chair to sit between the youngster and the noblewoman. "Morraine tells him not to do so, but my son..." he shook his head.

"Madly in love, wants everything perfect."

"Nothing wrong with that, Rumple. Let him try his best."

"It's be easier if he just told me what he wanted and I could make it happen."

"Oh, you know how he is with magic."

"Yes, but really, if he wants perfection-"

They had no further time to chat; Rose came barreling around the corner with the hook tightly in her fist, her dark hair flying behind her in the wind. She glanced behind her shoulder, grinning a familiar, devious grin, then saw who they had for company and skidded her feet in the dirt.

"Good afternoon, dearie." the man trilled, and watch her father follow around at a quick trot, with Neal in a fast sprint behind him. "Greetings to you too, master Neal."

"Uncle!" he said with a cheerful grin, and bounded over and give him a hug about the waist.

Rose took slow steps back until she was on par with her papa - not hiding behind, nor protectively before, but beside him, broadcasting where her loyalties lay. It was one thing for Killian to have moderately given up on killing him - there was a fiasco a few Yule tide's past that ended with blood shed and frightened children - but Rose hated him because he had tried harm her father, with both words and actions, little things just to dig a knife in his side, things she knew would hurt him more than if he'd actually drawn blood.

He had brought forgetfulness from the boys, but he wouldn't get it from her.

Without a word, she handed up the hook and Killian took and reattached it, before nodding to the magician.

"Crocodile."

"Thief."

"Nuthin' wrong with bein' a thief." Godric said quite cheerfully, with his mouthful of sugar. "Gettin' caught is the problem."

"Good to know there's wholesome family values, here."

"Bugger off." Killian growled. "I'll teach my babies what I like."

"And such pretty language, too."

"More than I can say for your face." Rose shot back.

He just giggled.

"Some things will never change." he trilled. "That reminds me! I have something for you, my little Godric."

"My, Godric." Killian said through his teeth.

The imp ignored him, put his hands together behind his back.

"Your birthday is coming up soon, isn't it? Well, yes, I wanted to give you an early present." And he presented him with a fluffy puppy - Godric attacked the candy ball with more fervor, his hand wrapping around Rumplestiltskin's forefinger.

"Thank you, uncle Rumple!" he said cheerfully, but didn't bother petting the animal with sticky hands.

Killian made to tell him off but his eldest son yelled, jumped up to accept the puppy on behalf of his brother, which looked more like a wolf than he was comfortable with. Sharp canines, bright blue eyes, streaked grey, white, and tipped in black. It would grow bigger than the boy stood tall.

"Don't you worry, pirate," the imp softened the leer as Rose caught the intention to hurt. "I have something for you too!"

Rumple clicked his fingers with a high pitched giggle, and his hook turned into a fish, which made Neal burst out into shocked laughter. Belle couldn't smother her hysteria enough, though both Milah Rose and Godric didn't understand why it was funny, when their father was so blindly mad.

Aside from the pirate now threatening to take a run by the Dark Castle with cannons aimed on the main tower, and Rose promising vehemently that his floppy limb would be avenged, Belle couldn't help but sink into a bemused, only mildly concerned slump. The two pirates stormed into the castle - she may or may not have heard Rose telling Emma to get her bow, they were going to seek vengeance; Emma didn't do it, just agreed in a pleasant way and came out to see what had happened.

"Oh." she said, looking at Rumplestiltskin. "Hello."

"My dear princess." he bowed. Godric leaned against his hip, mouth full of sugar.

Belle didn't even want to fathom how hyperactive he'd be later.

"Em! Emma look, Godric got a puppy!" Neal petted the new puppy, cuddling it, going through a list of names.

"He's adoreable." Emma went over to it, getting on her knees to pat him. "Bleugh, he's licking me!"

"That's kisses." Neal told her, matter-of-fact.

"Jealous?" she stuck her tongue out at him.

They proceeded to wrestle, never mind the fact Emma was in a pretty pale blue dress that was tearing.

"He's from Baelfire, too." Rum told the soon-to-be birthday boy. "I know how long you've wanted one, my little Godric."

"S'better cuz I got it from you, uncle." the boy replied happily. "Can I play with him?"

"Of course! That is what he's for!" the imp snapped his fingers, and the boy's hands were clean, along with his face, which he proceeded to wipe on his sleeve any way. "Off you pop, dearie, there's a lad."

"Will you be here when I get back?" he paused to direct the question upwards, clasping his hands politely behind his back. But he was distracted by the puppy, who caught a still sugary sleeve in his little teeth and tugged, making the boy lose focus enough to giggle and pick him up, proclaiming his name was Gob, The Warrior King. Gob barked, pleased with the title, and licked a long line up the boy's face.

"Snow is not going to like this." Belle sighed. "She and Killian have been teaming up to deny the kids a communal pet. Charming was for it - farm boy as ever, thinks the kids should learn to take care of lives other than their own. But Snow panics. Not that I blame her. Is it a wolf?"

"That wolf will protect your sons in the event I am absent." Rum told her, amused. "And little Emma, should he be told to."

"Not Rose?"

"Your daughter won't need it." he scoffed, and raised a brow at her. "She is her father, through and through. She will have him first and foremost, ready for battle, wheather she calls him to arms or not. Let's forget the fact that she has already been endeared to the al feared Balckbeard. Scum and loose cannon as he is, he's never been caught, and he uses tough magics."

"Assuming there's a battle to be had." Belle reminded him gently. "The Queen is contained, is she not?"

"Regardless, the girl won't have need of a wolf. The boys, however, just might." he smiled down at her, softly, his eyes betraying more of his soul than she could've known when she first met him. He didn't like Milah because she continued to remind him of the wife he'd once lost and to whom she'd been lost to - he would protect the boys first, knowing Killian's instinct would be to protect the girls.

"Snow will have Ruby talk to him, you know."

"Let the Queen do as she pleases. That wolf is bound to my little Godric and to him alone. Death is the only thing that'll separate them." he told her and gave a fancy bow. "I know it is not right to have favorites, but he is mine."

Belle looked up to see her husband marching back out onto the grounds in full black leather, a new hook attached, his daughter in a similar cotton garb, fumbling with a thin sword on her hip, her hair pulled into a messy knot at the nape of her neck.

"You should-" but he'd already dropped a kiss onto her head, and was dancing out in the field with Godric. Neal and Emma were puffing, out of breath from play fighting, staring at each other with silly grins on their faces.

"Love." she called out pleasantly, and proceeded to pull her husband into her arms. "Not today."

"But mother-"

"I'm not above taking your sword off of you." she cocked a brow at the glaring girl. "Go and see if Emma will verse you. Perhaps can vent your vengeful energies in a practice round."

The girl looked up at her father, who only bent to give her a kiss on the forehead as permission, before she left with a heaved groan.

"It doesn't make sense how, out of three children, the one most like you is a girl." Belle murmured to him with humour.

"I don't think could've had a princess for a daughter." he returned with a dark look out at the forest, where the imp was curling into purple smoke, lifting a friendly wave at Godric, who had a puppy at his heels and grin on his face. "I've already got one as a wife."

"Stop sulking. It'll give you wrinkles." she pulled his head down to kiss his mouth, until it smiled under her attention. "Feel better?"

"No. Definitely need more of you." he hugged her off the floor, nipping her jawline, running his beard and teeth over her neck. He sucked a mark on her because after seventeen years of marriage, he was still possessive of her, still concerned that she was going to leave him for the ever powerful Rumplestiltskin.

The puppy barked, ran around his ankles, nipping him as he went.

"This bloody dog." he said flatly, and glared at it. "Godric, get this animal away from me before I kick it."

"Papa you wouldn't." the boy scooped up the wolf, hiding him in clumsily protective arms. "Uncle Rumble gave him to me!"

"Yes, I'm aware of that." he scowled, but she kissed it away, pulling his face to hers. They lost themselves for maybe a half a second, before both their sons chanted about them kissing in a tree, and Milah strolled around the corner to hide her eyes and make a loud : "YEUK!" sound.

She laughed at them, the kids, the puppy, the dissipating smoke that was and remained her first love. There was very little she wanted, aside from maybe a few more minutes to read, come the evenings. But with three (four, depending on how you looked at it) children, she had to live out her own horror, romance, adventure story. And as much as she wanted to skip a few pages and spoil the end, just to make sure she was happy with it, satisfied with it, she didn't.

All was well.

* * *

CHEESY ENDING IS CHEESY AS FECK.

Never written a proper romance before. How'd I do?

Good exercise for my brain. I challenge you to ruin your One True Pair, too, and link me!

The absolutely wonderful and generous_Kendra Luehr_ did me my first ever gift art, the one in the display picture. Go give her thanks and praise, because let's be honest, it's gorgeous:

: / / blood-and-lust-87 . deviantart art / Hook-x-Belle-Guts-for-Glory-Gift-Art-350827453

I LOVE IT SO HARD. You do not even know!

Follow me on Tumblr - Audethethird.

Hope you liked it!

Much, much love.

Aude.

xx


End file.
